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angelstate · 4 months

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Husband!Soap x Wife!Reader.

Husband!Soap is one hell of a lover, he is everything you could ever ask for in a man. He is attentive and caring, he truly appreciates you and loves you in a way that shouldn’t be possible for humans to feel.

He does everything he can to show you just how deeply he feels about you, and it manifests as much in little things as in the big things. For example, your favorite tea is always restocked in the pantry, the washer and dryer are always empty and the clean clothes are neatly folded in your bedroom closet. The bills of the water and electricity services never meet your eye because he pays before you can see the cost of it, he knows you get anxious and worried about that sort of thing.

He is honest about his feelings and you’re always what he has in mind, he likes you and loves you so much to the point he feels like kneeling at your feet and just worships you in every way he can, more than sexually, his love goes beyond that.

you could come up to him one day and tell him that he could never touch again and his feelings wouldn’t falter for one second, he would make do with only being able to admire you like he did for years before he even dared to ask you to be his girlfriend.

Husband!Soap would take the fault for every one of your mistakes, if you break a plate in his parent's house he would say it had been him, if you’re arguing about something he would apologize first, knowing that it wasn’t worth time to yell at each other for something that was a mistake.

He knows you’ll apologize too after you calm down, not wanting to be trapped between high emotions when saying something meaningful to him. you value the control you have over your words and he is a patient man, he would wait a lifetime if it meant to hear you speak so time isn’t wasted with him, every second he experiences your existence is heaven to him.

Husband!Soap hopes for the day the two of you have children, he wants a family with you, wants to build something of himself that is fully constructed in a foundation of love and safety, the one he didn’t necessarily have as a kid.

He wants a big family in the countryside, a view of hills of greenery, tall trees, flowers, and fresh air every morning, to be woken up by the sight of you lying beside him in bed, your pretty face relaxed and messy hair all over your pillow while the sun creeps in from between the curtains, your children sleeping in their bedroom the quietness of the home being something short-lived when they began to wake up, he wants to grow old by your side, raising a beautiful family.

He allows himself to dream about it more than he cares to admit, he knows it won’t happen in a very long time, his job, your career, and other problems stopping the two of you from taking that step but he is a patient man, and he rather takes his time than rush things and risk losing you in the process.

Husband!Soap is a good man, he knows he did everything he could to make your time together merry and happy, to fill it with more good memories than bad ones. and he allows himself to think he did a good job at loving you while he could.

so when he gets shot on the side of his head and the last 7 minutes of brain activity the body is programmed to experience before ultimately dying begin, his mind is plagued with you, meeting you, becoming your friend, asking you to be his girlfriend but most of all, your wedding day.

and it is as if he’s experiencing that day all over again, your voice as you read to him your vows, how sweet of you to write personal ones, full of inside jokes and promises you had made him years ago when you first started dating. He remembers feeling his heart flutter on his chest.

but right now, lying on the cold floor his heart cannot flutter, but the tears falling from his eyes do the job just fine because the memory as beautiful as it is makes him feel extremely sad, he doesn’t want to leave you behind, he wants to live longer, to experience more things by your side.

He wants to have children with you, he wants to see the passing of time affect the two of you, to see the smile lines on your face and know that was his doing, that a lifetime with him granted you marks of happiness in your skin.

He wants more time, God, he wants an eternity with you, he wants as much time as he can get.

He remembers your face when he came home early a few months ago, the excitement filling in the void in your eyes when you first opened the door, he remembers the weight of your body on his arms as you had jumped on him, wrapping your limbs around him and not letting go.

what he would do to see that face again, to hear your squeals of happiness next to his ear and feel the softness of your hair in between his fingers. if he knew that would be the last time he came home to you he would’ve done so much more.

he would’ve fixed the creek of the door, he would’ve washed the dirty clothes on the laundry basket, he would’ve cooked your favorite meal and hugged you just a bit more tightly.

He knows he did his fair share of bad things in the world, but you were nothing short of an angel, you didn’t deserve his death as much as he deserved to die. He knows the fragility of your heart, he knows that you’re a sensitive being that can only be treated gently, and he is afraid death isn’t kind, that grief will swallow you whole before you get a chance to realize that your life shouldn’t end because he did.

Husband!Soap loves you more than you could ever imagine, so when the 7 minutes of brain activity ends, he goes out with the image of your face in his mind, your voice muttering that everything is alright, that you love him as much as he loves you.

you were everything, the sole reason he wished for a brighter future and the reason he died a happy man.

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konigenblobbity · 10 months

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What is your Problem?! [Part 1]

Ghost x F!Reader, Soap x F!Reader

Warnings: Angst, yelling, Ghost being mean, Soap comfort, light chokehold, love triangle

—> [Part 2]

Summary: Ever since you joined the task force, Ghost has had it out for you. Punishing you for things he’d brush off for others, constantly criticizing everything you do, ignoring you when you’re just trying to help. It’s been like that for a year, and you finally snap. You see red when he claims you don’t deserve to celebrate with your team. The mission having been absolutely grueling, taking months of prep, where you had many sleepless nights, but having gone perfectly smoothly… you snapped.

A/n: Was writing some angst and then it got away from me, kinda turned into a love triangle fic lol, enjoy? Also didn’t read through it so there might be some spelling and grammar mistakes 0_o

You walk into the common room, with an ear to ear smile as a loud cheer echoed on the walls. Every member of your team smiling, some raising their glasses. You then feel an arm wrap around your shoulder. “Congrats boss! Finally wrapped up that shite mission” you chuckle at Soaps words, but can’t help but agree.

This mission was exhausting, having been the reason for many restless nights and countless coffees. “Can’t agree more Soap” he smiles and then says “let’s get to the bar and get you a glass of the strong stuff” with a wink he begins to pull you through the crowd. You feel pride as people greet you and pat your shoulder congratulating you.

That feeling leaves in a heartbeat as you feel a new hand on your shoulder, stopping you in your tracks. You turn and just like you dreaded, there stood Ghost, his figure looming over you and his serious demeanor sending a shiver through you. “You’ll have to excuse me Soap, I need to borrow the ‘boss’ for a moment”

You felt yourself tense, he clearly wasn’t going to congratulate you… he never did. Ever since you joined the task force he’s had it out for you. Some ruthless vendetta to make your life a living hell. Always treating you differently to everyone else.

He’d criticize you during training and then make you stay longer if he didn’t think you did ‘good enough’, yell at you for things he would’ve brushed off if it was anyone else, even going so far as to insult you right to your face. Deeming you worthless, obsolete, and entirely unfit for this task force.

You hoped he’d warm up to you over time, giving you the chance to show your worth, get him to finally respect you and treat you like a part of the team… instead of some kind of obstacle. You respected Ghost… and you wanted him to like you.

Seeing how he treats the others, joking around and poking fun, but when you make the slightest playful jab he’d go cold and order you to do 100 push ups without hesitation. Your hatred for him slowly grows by the months, no longer admiring him, but despising him for his endless torment.

You pray that Soap won’t let you be pulled away by Ghost, but he simply shrugs, unwrapping his arm from your shoulder and saying. “Sure! Just don’t keep her too long, we wanna do a toast later” he winks at you and smiles “in your honor” you smile back but without another word Ghost pulls you away, into his office nearby.

You stand in front of him, back straighten, stiff and your heart beating fast from the suspense. He stands tall in front of you, roughly a meter away. His expression hidden by his mask but his eyes glaring into your soul. You don’t dare speak, not wanting to unintentionally aggravate him.

“You’re not going to get a toast.” His words making your heart drop, as you can’t help but clench your fists at your sides. “I’m sorry sir. I don’t understand” you spoke sternly, controlling the urge to say anything else, at fear of disrespecting him.

He sighs but then doubles down saying. “Well… they can’t make a toast because you won’t be there. You’re going to go back to your dorm. I’m not permitting you to celebrate” You were speechless. Standing there, with your mouth agape and you just felt your blood boiling.

“What. Sir I’ve been working on this mission for months. It went perfect I don’t understand what I did wrong?” You begin to raise your voice, slowly losing your grasp on your rage. Your face beginning to redden. “Watch your tone. And no, it did not go perfect” you try to take controlled breaths, wanting to lunge at Ghost and rip out his tongue.

“Sir. With all due respect…” the way you said it clearly showing you meant no respect, spitting the word out like poison. “There were no causalities, we didn’t get spotted, and we were able to avoid excessive violence. Everything went smoothly” he just laughs. You bite your cheeks to avoid snapping. His laugh pushing every one of your buttons.

“What about when you turned off your comms? I’d call that a major misjudgment” you paused. Thinking back to the mission. And then you can’t help but laugh, running a hand through your hair finally breaking from your stiff posture, letting a wild smile grace your lips.

“You’ve got to be fucking joking…” you whisper and at that Ghost narrows his eyes and loudly orders “What was that soldier?” And you just look at him, glaring into his eyes, your own seeing red.

“I said. You have to be… fucking. joking. When are you done being a prick? Huh? What will it take for you to just fucking respect me and stop treating me so unfairly” you’re yelling now, pointing your finger at him accusingly, causing his to try and interrupt you.

“I suggest you-“ you stop caring, finally breaking and not letting him get a single word out. “No! I suggest you get a goddamn grip. I don’t deserve your harassment, I don’t deserve your punishments, I don’t deserve how you look down at me as if I am worth nothing” you were so loud that some of the noises in common area died down. Everyone hearing you lashing out, but not fully able to hear what you were saying.

“When I turned off my comms… it was because I had to go silent for a while. Being mere meters away from enemy guards, and not wanting to reveal my location, risking the lives of my team” he stands there, his own fists clenched at his side now, seething rage seeming to radiate off him. He finally managed to speak up.

“You were selfish” the way he spoke was unthankful, no compassion in his tone, as if what he said was undeniably true. “Fuck you.” It was almost breathless, his words sending a dagger through your heart, you were sick and tired of him. You turn to exit the office.

You’re then roughly pinned against the office door, his arm pressing against your throat, your hands grabbing onto it as if you could pry it off. The motion caused you to groan and there was a loud thud. “Don’t you dare disrespect me” he spoke through gritted teeth, he was seething at this point.

You felt your eyes well up and you couldn’t help as a few ran down your cheeks, you were exhausted, not just from the mission, but from the hell Ghost has been putting you through.

“That’s rich… you’ve been disrespecting me ever since I arrived. I was never good enough for you, no matter how hard I tried, or how I much I bled, or how perfect I was. It was never enough for you. You never gave me a chance… you were against me the second I arrived” your words interrupted by shaky breaths, but you didn’t stop. Finally saying what was on your chest.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about” if you weren’t so angry, you would’ve detected the slight guilt in his tone. “You’ve made it clear how much you hate me. You treat me so differently to everyone else, as if I haven’t been a part of this team for a whole year. I don’t care if you punish me… I am going to celebrate with my team. I deserve a fucking break” his grasp on you loosens, he was shocked… your words finally hit him as he stepped back.

You cough lightly before glaring at him. You turn around and leave the office, walking back into the common area where eyes are immediately on you. You ignore it, weaving your way through the crowd to get to the bar. Soap sits there waiting with a glass of whiskey and a smile.

When he sees the state you’re in, red eyes, brows appearing permanently furrowed, and your face red with rage. “My god Lass… what happened?” He immediately looks concerned, facing you as you sit down on the stool grabbing your glass. When you down it instantly, not bothering to answer Soap, he turns to look back at the office door, where Ghost stands with crossed arms.

He sighs. Out of everyone, the only person you told about Ghost’s abuse was Soap. He had constantly encouraged you to have patience, to give him a chance to warm up to you, to just wait… he couldn’t help but feel awful now.

“He finally broke me…” you whisper as you reach over the bar and grab the bottle of whiskey, opening the cap. “Christ Lass… I’m so sorry” Soap watches as you don’t even pour it into your glass, drinking straight from the bottle. His whole being hurt at the sight, you were supposed to be celebrating. His anger growing at the idea that Ghost finally took it too far.

“He told me to go back to the dorm… told me I wasn’t allowed to celebrate” you chuckle and put down the bottle. “What?” Soap was in pure shock, frozen in place. Watching as you wipe the tears from your eyes, using the back of your hand to wipe away the remnants on your cheeks.

It’s then that Soap notices the redness of your neck, his brows furrow and he grabs at your jaw, gently, and tilts your head up. You pull away but not soon enough for him not to see it. His whole expression drops “Did he hurt you?” When you don’t respond, just taking another sip from the whiskey, he stands up from his chair.

You grab his arm before he walks off, his whole demeanor seeming enraged, but he stops when your hand circles his arm. “Don’t. Just stay. I don’t want to be alone” your voice was quiet, almost raspy, Soap picks up on the broken sob that leaves you afterwards.

He immediately moves to sit back down next to you, moving his stool to be closer to you. He takes your hand in his, holding it tightly. “I’m so sorry Lass… he said he’d never go that far. He promised.” You look at him confused, and he lets out a sigh. “I’ve talked to him about going easier on you… I just couldn’t ignore it anymore. I’m sorry. I should’ve asked”

He waited for you to get mad, to walk off, the way your eyes widened only making him more nervous. What he doesn’t expect is for you to grab the back of his neck with your hand, pulling his face to yours. Allowing your lips to collide with his gently. He let out a gasp, his eyes wide, but he slowly let them close, moving his arm around your waist and kissing you back.

There was a loud thud as Ghost’s office door slammed shut. Having seen the whole thing he can’t help but be infuriated. Not at you, not at Soap, but at himself. Knowing he pushed you too far, and to his disappointment, pushed you right into Soap’s arms.

Soap mumbled against your lips. “I’ll keep an eye out for you lass, I swear I won’t let him hurt you like that anymore…” he moved away, and then pulled you close against him. “I’ll take care of you from now on”

#cod modern warfare #fanfiction #ghost x reader #modern warfare fanfiction #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost x reader #soap x reader #soap cod #soap fanfic #john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x you #john soap mctavish x reader

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kruegerspillow · 5 months

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‘Your touch devours me, baby,’ A werewolf Soap fanfic.

Creator's note: I have appeared outta nowhere again, with the most random fic in the world. Well, enjoy this, keep in mind that English isn't my first language, and this hasn't been proofread. Eat up girlies.

Summary: You knew that Soap was a lycanthrope, and you've opened up to him about being interested in learning about their species. But there's one thing that he didn't give you a heads up at.. his heat cycle.

Genre: Real kinky smut.. MDNI ! 🔞

Words: 2,121 (including these creator's notes, warning, summary, genre, etc..)

Warning: NSFW, absolute feral Soap, a lot of swearing, no mentions of y/n, reader is AFAB, Soap is a wayy submissive here. PiV, breeding, brief mentions of blood, Soap got caught humping on a pillow (yes, you read that right.), CNC (?), SOAP IS SO CARING HERE ASKASKSk, super soft Soap !! After care.

Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish, the charming werewolf that everyone knows. He's known for his charisma, and of course, his heightened capibilities.

The base had been oddly quiet after the mission, most of the soldiers had already went to the usual pub to celebrate another succesful mission. Though, you felt like someone was missing, which gave you an eery feeling. Thus, you decided to walk your way back to base to check out on that person— Johnny.

You walked out of the group of soldiers, the unpleasent smell of alcohol lingering around you— you squeezed your way through the crowd, wincing and muttering a small apology for every person whom you bumped into. As you finally succeed to get your way out of the crowded pub, you wandered your way back to the base— goosebump forming on your arms everytime the wind breezes.

Your boots crunched against the cold, hard ground. You made it back to the base, before walking your way to the quarters. As you turned to one of the corners, you froze on your spot.

A familiar voice rings into your ears, before you recognized that Scottish accent. Though, as you walked closer to his dorm door, you heard those familiar sounds of pleasures— along with bed creaking and the wet noises.

“Fuckfuckfuck, [name].. feel so fuckin' good, grinding against me like that..” You heard him choke out, followed by a high-pitched whine.

The familiar heat creeps up onto your face, feeling your body jolt slightly at the sound of him calling out for you like that. Your hand rests on his doorknob, debating on whether to open the door and intervene, or.. listen to his noises of pleasure.

Well, the door creaked.

You got into his room quickly, before closing the door behind you. Beads of sweat formed on your forehead, before you locked the door to his dorm. You stood there on the doorframe, before your eyes met with his. Soap had never looked so guilty in his life. His body shudders against the pillow, before he completely froze— his hand grips the sheet, just enough for his knuckles to turn white.

“C'mon, don't stop on my account, Soap. Go on with what you're doing,” You grunted out, crossing your arms as you looked down at him. His face went completely red, lips parting as his tail wags in excitement.

“Shit, [name], you.. you shouldn't be here.” He murmured out, sounding more cautious as his cock twitched on the pillow. Your scent lingers around him, his head spinning from your strong smell. His breath hitches, precum spreaded on his pillow.

You decided to take matters in your own hand, quite literally.

You walked even closer to him, before leaning down to face him, enough for Soap to feel your breath against his hot face. He bit his lip, stifling any noises he's about to let out. One of your hand reaches down to support you on the bed, before the other went to his twitching cock.

“Fuck! Don't.” He hissed out, warning you for the consenquences of his heat, “I dont want to risk hurting you, bonnie.”

You maintain eye contact, eyes rolling at his words before you crawled onto the bed. You were on your knees, legs beside his trembling thighs as your right hand kept itself on the tip of his cock.

“Try me, Johnny.” Your voice was low and raspy. His tail immediately perks up once again as he tried to hold himself back. He tried to resist wagging his tail, pushing the pillow that was sprawled with his precum away. His eyes showed how badly he's asking for it.

“Baby.. shit, at least keep distance with me,” He whined out, afraid to hurt you in any kind of form. “Don't wanna fuckin' hurt you.. Get out before it's too late,”

You ignored his pleas, before you stroked his cock, your hand twisting everytime it went against the tip of his cock.

“[name], bonnie, fuuck..” He whined out, trying to resist his hips from bucking up as both of his hands clenched the sheets beneath the both of you. He had practically given up on trying to stop you, though. His eyes rolled back slightly, whining out like he's begging you to let him breed you, to mate with you.

“I know, I know, relax a bit for me, will you?” I shushed him, trying to keep him quiet as I stroked him. Your other hand reaches up to his chin, making him face you as you gave him a passionate kiss. He kissed back desprerately, biting your lip gently— well, he tried to. He drawed blood on your lips, his sharp fangs cutting your lip. The sensation of pain and pleasure mixed, and before he could even apologized, you shoved your thumb into his mouth.

He grunted out, bucking his hips completely now. He sucked on your thumb, but this time, even more careful as he knew that his fangs were way too sharp to be played around. His tongue swirled, feeling himself going closer and closer to the edge. He looked up at you with his puppy dog eyes, trying to signal you that he's about to cum.

“Cum.. about to, ngghh, about to cum..” he panted out with his muffled voice, feeling his saliva drip down from his chin. He felt feral, yet so submissive around you.

You gave him a small, reassuring smile before your hand picks up the pace. You earned a whimper from him, his noises coming in between his little pants as his tail wagged.

“Cum for me like a good boy, will you?” You teased him, before you tipped him just over the edge. His back arched, fangs showing as he let out a long whine. His hips kept bucking, cum shooting out from his leaking cock to his own stomach. His cock twitches in your hand, still obviously hard even after the orgasm.

You chuckled, amazed by his intense orgasm as you let go of your hand from his cock, letting him catch breath for a second. You pulled out your thumb from his mouth, seeing it dripping with his wet saliva. As he catched his breath, you met his gaze— your right hand entering his mouth once again— making him swallow his own cum.

“Swallow it like a good ol'boy, hm..” you praised him as he swallowed his release. As you pulled out his thumb, his hands shots up to your waist as he tried to tug your trousers down.

“Wanna eat.. eat you out so badly, please..” he groaned out, before you heard small footsteps outside the room. It was probably the soldiers going back to their dorm anyway.

You smiled at his words, before letting him tug your trousers down. He pulled them down as fast as he could, his fingers fiddling with your zipper as he finally got them down. He pulled you by your waist, before laying on his back and pushing you down onto his face— your clothed clit right on top of him.

“You, ride my face, don't even think if I can breathe or not.” he breathed out, before his fingers tugged your panties down.

Your breath hitched slightly as his gaze met with your dripping cunt, you grunted at the sensation of his warm breath against your core. He didn't even wait anymore, his tongue lunging at you like a feral beast with it's prey. He licked and sucked, the sounds of your slickness loud and clear for others to hear.

His hand shots up to your thigh, pushing even more weight down to his face. He grunted out, squeezing your thigh as his tongue went in deeper into your swollen clit. You whimpered out, your hand reaching down to tug on his hair— which nearly made him cum on the spot too.

He moaned out, his voice muffled as he devoured you fully, his tongue felt so good in you. You clenched around nothing, before looking down at him, your chest rising up and down.

“I.. I'm close, Soap, don't stop..” you moaned out, biting your bleeding bottom lip— luckily, he didn't notice the amount of blood he drew from you.

His tongue wiggled in you, wanting to feel you cum on his face as he let out a breathy chuckle. You spasmed, before letting go. As your orgasm occured, he lapped up your juices, seeming to be more then satisfied to make you feel really good. You jolted as he continuted to lick and suck for a few more seconds, before fully stopping. You got off of his face, just to see his saliva mixed with your juices drooling down his chin. A small grin tugged in the corner of his lips, he still looked.. desperate.

He grabbed your waist once again, before positioning you towards his cock.

“Need to feel you around me, hnngh..” he slurred out, voice raspy as he slowly lowered you down. His tip went in, and he nearly came just from the sensation of you clenching around it. Wet sounds formed as he slowly inserted his cock, inches by inches, it was finally in.

With a small 'pop', he's fully inside you now. He groaned out, back arching as you started to ride him on the spot. You grinded down against him, purposely clenching around his cock just to tease him even a bit. He whined out, ears drooping as his hips bucked. His hand stayed on your waist, supporting you as he made sure he didn't miss the feeling of even a single sensation. You thrusted him in and out from you, feeling his cock twitch as you moaned out.

“Feel so fuckin' good..” he murmured out in pleasure.

And in a second, he flipped you over, making you lay on your back against the messy sheets. You gasped in amusement, before letting him do his own thing. Suddenly, he absolutely ruts into you with no mercy, panting as his tongue poked out of his mouth. He lets out little whimper and whines, feeling you clench around him when he fastened the pace.

“Fuuck.. I'm sorry baby, can't. fuckin'. hold. back. anymore.” he moaned out in between deep, long thrusts. He ruts into you, a feral wolf he is.

He chased his orgasm, as well as yours. Thrusting deeper and deeper, he felt himself getting closer— along with you clenching around him.

“Need to breed you, need to fucking cum in you, need us to cum together. Wanna breed you so fucking bad..” he slurred out, lost in the sensation of pleasure.

He picks up his pace by the second, before the both of you tipped over the edge. One last thrust, and you could feel his knot in you.

You whined out, feeling his knot dripping into your greedy cunt. You clenched around Soap's cock, before arching your back. Soap grunted out, panting heavily as his cum still drips out. In a few more moments, the both of you catched your breath. He slowly pulls out, earning a gasp from you.

“Bonnie.. did I hurt you?” He asked in concerned, before his eyes glances down to your core, his cum dripping out. His cock hardened once more, but he decided to let it be, as he didn't want to hurt you again. You shook your head, appearing to be fine before his fingers gently fucked the cum back into your cunt.

He prepared aftercare for you, grabbing a warm towel and tossing it to you and handing you a glass of warm water after he took a shower with you, tugging his boxers back up— the imprint of his still hard cock visible, but he ignores it. His tail wags, ears perking up as he crawled into your arms softly.

“Your touch devours me, baby, I am all yours.”

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hyperfixiation-station · 5 months

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Life, Liberty, and the Pursuit of Information Pt.2

Apprehension

TW: Torture, graphicish violence, angst Summary: Backstory time >:)

A Study in Torture, Rescue

1 Month, 3 days ago

You grunt softly, hoisting yourself over the wall and dropping near silently to the ground. You cradle a fractured wrist to your chest, cursing Ghost and his inability to fly a helicopter.

“Hang on kid!”

“I’m trying!”

“Shit! Ghost you’ve got to level the chopper!”

“I’m! Trying!”

“Don’t let me fall, MacTavish!”

“Y/N!”

“Oh my God.”

“Ghost you have to turn around!”

“I can’t!”

“Y/N!”

You shake your head, breaking out of the reverie. Focus, you tell yourself. You creep silently through the enemy encampment, sticking to the shadows. Your eyes dart back and forth, constantly scanning your surroundings for danger.

You crouch, moving behind a tent as voices sounded from in front of you. You watch as soldiers walk past you, sighing in relief when they don't seem to notice you. That relief is short-lived however, as cool metal is pressed into your back.

“Well, well, well, what have we here?” Heavily-accented English sounds from behind you. The man holding the gun pulls it away, then slams the butt of it into your temple. You don’t even have time to respond before the world goes dark.

You come to in a dark room. Grunting, you try to sit up, but stop when spikes of pain flare through your wrists. Your head spins and you look down, blinking sluggishly. Your eyes widen as you finally notice that you are handcuffed to a table, hands up above your head.

“Good morning, pretty bird.” Slightly Russian-accented English sounds from behind you, “about time you woke up.” A man comes into view, and though it takes you a few seconds, you recognize him.

“Colonel Kravchenko.” You mutter, tongue thick and heavy in your mouth.

“So you know me.” You say nothing, just follow him with your eyes. He sighs softly, moving next to the table you are strapped to.

“So, Y/N L/N. You know, you really should not be in enemy territory with an I.D. on you. As it is, I now know pretty much everything about you, including the fact that you are a member of an...elite team I have been hunting.” He double checks your restraints as he speaks, circling the table and stopping by your side.

“Being as such, you have information I want.” He grins, “You can give this to me the boring, easy way, or you can let me have fun.”

Fear coils in your belly, but you do not let it show. You are a trained, battle-hardened soldier, and you will not give up your team for anything.

“Well, pretty bird? Are you going to talk to me?” You remain silent, watching him. He grins sharply at the silence, almost eager.

“Good. I hate the boring ones anyways.” He moves out of your line of sight, returning with a covered cart next to him, “There are a few rules we’ll have to go over before we start, of course. But we can introduce them slowly, I don’t want to…overwhelm you. The first, and most important, is that you will address me as Sir whenever you speak.” You snort, rolling your eyes at that.

“You think that's a funny, pretty bird?”

“A little, yeah.” You snark, trying to hide your fear.

“Sir.” He says, annoyed.

“What are you gonna do if I don’t.”

“You are a soldier, no?” You nod instinctively, confused at the turn in conversation.

“It would be a shame for you to never be able to hold a gun again, wouldn’t it be, pretty bird?” he croons. He slides his hand into yours, interlocking your fingers. If you weren’t concussed, maybe you would be able to guess what he was about to do, but your brain is foggy, thought process muddled. So it comes as a surprise when he jerks his hand up, forcing your fingers back. There is a crunching noise as your bones shatter, fire lacing up your arm. He squeezes the broken fingers and you scream.

“Pretty bird, you and I are going to have so much fun together.” The man laughs, letting go of your hand, “Now, we’ll start off simple. What were you doing in my airspace?” You say nothing, teeth clenched, eyes watering. He turns his back to you, flipping the cloth of the cart. You watch through blurry eyes as he pulls something from it before flipping the cloth back over. In his hands is a towel.

“I’ll ask you one more time. What were you doing in my airspace?” You say nothing, just stare at him. He smiles, delighted by your decision to play hard to get.

“Your choice, pretty bird.” He drapes the towel over your face, obscuring your vision. You panic, breaths coming in rapid bursts at the inability to see anything. You calm down slightly as the towel is flipped down so you can see again, still covering your mouth and nose. You blame the concussion again for not being able to put two-and-two together, but you are confused until he returns, bucket in hand.

You squirm pointlessly, trying to get away. The man simply chuckles, pouring the water over your face. You hold your breath for as long as you can, but eventually you exhale, gasping as your lungs demand air. Immediately, the wet cloth is sucked to your skin, suffocating you. You panic, no longer able to control your breathing as you inhale sharply and gag at the water running down your throat in a vicious cycle.

Though it feels like hours, you are only under the water for about a minute before the cloth is pulled away. Your body heaves as you choke, gasping greedily for air.

“What were you doing in our airspace?” You say nothing, just sob softly.

“Have it your way, pretty bird.” The cloth is placed back over your face and the water is poured again. And again. And again.

~~~~~Meanwhile~~~~~

“Bloody hell.” Ghosts snarls as he brings the chopper to a rough landing. He jumps out, followed by Soap and Gaz. Price stands in the hanger, waiting for them.

“I heard.” He says solemnly as Gaz opens his mouth, “They are sending men out to look for them, and it took every favor Laswell has ever owed me to get us sent out.” He turns on his heel, not bothering to check if his men were following. He leads them to a briefing room, slamming the door shut behind him.

A map of the enemy territory is projected on the white board, upon which Price draws a small red circle.

“This is our best guess as to where they landed. We have received no communication from them since they fell.” He pauses, sighing softly, “Officially, they have been marked K.I.A and this is a body recovery. Unofficially, this is a rescue op. We don’t lose hope until their body is on the table in front of us, okay?”

“We are rolling out tomorrow.” He continues, “So get to the infirmary, get checked out, and get some sleep.”

Sounds of agreement echo from the room, and Gaz and Price exit, leaving Soap and Ghost alone in the room.

“Not your fault Johnny.”

“Not yours either Lt.”

Neither of them believe the other. The guilt lays heavy in the room, tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. The minutes drag out for hours as they sit in stony silence.

"If anyone can survive out there, it's Y/N. We'll find 'em." Soaps voice trembles slightly as he breaks the silence. Ghost nods in agreement.

"Lets hit the rack." It's not a suggestion. They walk out of the room side-by-side, both thinking the same thing.

My fault.

Soap still holds the glove that had slid off your hand as you fell from the chopper.

Okay question. When you finally get rescued do we want major PTSD or only some PTSD?

Also do y'all want more torture scenes or do you want the rescue?

#cod x reader #simon ghost riley #angst #cod fanfic #no beta we die like men #this is fun #cod #ghost fanfiction #soap fanfic #price fanfiction #gaz fanfic #ghost can't drive

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walker33961 · 7 months

Text

He’s toooo dreamy ..

💋

- to his scars

Cr : @quantumsapphx - on twitter

<3 : @alypink @welldonekhushi @sofasoap @bellgraves

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alwaysshallow · 5 months

Text

coffee at midnight, part 7

John "Soap" MacTavish x f!reader

You try the whole "dating" thing. Soap doesn't quite like that, and it shows. (4,4k)

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

READ ON AO3

If you'd known how much of a fuss it would be, you wouldn't even tell him. Hell, you wouldn't even think about telling him, you'd just describe it as a simple meeting with an old friend, and he'd know everything afterwards.

Now, you felt like you were seventeen again, trying to explain yourself right in front of your mom when you did something that she didn't like.

The only difference was, Soap acted like your mom, proudly taking her place in scolding you.

"'s like a free invitation for an axe murderer to come and get ya. Bonnie, thought yer gonna be smarter than this." He looked at you, his eyebrows furrowed. You didn't have to be a rocket scientist to see how conflicted he was with you going out without him.

Well, maybe it was also the fact that you were going on a date; an unexpected one, but you couldn't really say no, when your best friend played as your wingman.

And, what could shock the most, the wingman wasn't Soap, but Gaz that got into the conclusion you needed something like this; after your injury, but also in general since he hasn't seen you in ages on date with someone. Truth, harsh but still truth, got into you, so you've decided he's completely right. You needed this, a fresh air in the whole situation.

Which was funnier, that date was with Cody. Cody, who got your fake number from Johnny just because he didn't like him and he gave off weird vibes and you deserved better. You felt bad for a moment considering it was a fucking helpline, but it was too late to do anything with it. What's more to it, you really didn't want to tell him that your idiotic best friend decided to joke, thinking it would be funny.

That guilt was until Garrick proudly admitted that he gave him your number because it felt right. Because Cody asked about you since he saw you with them, and after a quick "interrogation", he felt like a proud wingman to allow him to take a shot on you.

Pretty funny choice of words, but all in all, you knew what Gaz was thinking about. You've babbled with him about it for almost two hours straight, drinking wine, while Soap just listened, throwing his snarky remarks from time to time. He looked like a kid that got his candy stolen from him, and while you didn't really like that kind of behavior, it was kind of funny to see him like this.

Such a contrast to his usually playful nature, especially in something stupid; you were just getting ready for the date. Nothing too scandalous, nothing too fancy, and nothing too deep, but the last thing you kept to yourself, just to get him riled up.

"Axe murderer that I know, Soap," you groaned, when he stood in your way, clearly not wanting you to go any further. Or to at least think what you were doing, which was funny enough, given you were a grown up woman. Not his sister that he needed to protect because she's not mature enough to think for herself, his best friend that knew exactly what she's doing.

At least, she pretended like she knew it. He was so stern that even when you gave him a look, full of politeness, he wasn't impressed.

"You just met him after years," he emphasized the last word. "He could be so much different than the last time you've seen him, 'st sayin'. Yer too good to people, always been."

You sighed, a little defeated; there was nothing you could say that would convince him enough to Cody. "Yet, Kyle thinks he's pretty good for going out."

Soap laughed at your words, shaking his head with disbelief. His previously royal, blue eyes, were nothing like before; they were a bit... colder, if it was even possible. "And since when Kyle is your love advisor?" He raised his eyebrow, his arms crossed at his chest. It felt pretty defensive, even for him.

And, you would lie if you'd tell that you didn't like that, even if it was weird for you, to see him care about something like this. It was heartwarming; like he didn't actually want you to see that guy, to see him adding his statement.

But, of course, you couldn't admit that. It would only make his ego burst, and it was the last thing that he needed to know.

Besides, it would only make things more complicated.

"And like, it's..."

"Why do you care anyway?" you interrupted him; he opened his mouth for a moment, to close it right away, like your words actually hit him. "Genuinely. It's just a date."

Soap rolled his eyes, playing with his fingers – when you only glanced at them, he swiftly hid them behind his back. Like he wanted to keep them away from you, like you would say something about it. It was weird, but you didn't pay much attention to it back then.

"Carin' about you. 's all." He shrugged, looking carefully at you, when you put your shoes on. "'st... be careful, aye? 'm gonna kill this lad if he's..."

"...Johnny." You sent him a look; your hand instinctively covered his for a moment. "It's all gonna be alright. I'm not like, going to a mission where I'm gonna get another injury" you joked. He didn't take it quite well, considering that he gave you a scolding look.

"Mhm." Soap grumbled, helping you as you moved on to your coat. "Text me if you'll need anythin', bonnie. I mean it. Yer arm good?"

"Good, thank you. I'm gonna remember." You smiled softly, nudging him for goodbye, indicating that he could step down from his protective role. Cody was supposed to pick you up, so there was absolutely nothing for him left to do.

Well, at least you thought this way. His thoughts were a little different, as you saw the moment he escorted you to the exit of your apartment building, leaning against the door, as you were getting into your date's car. Cody even waved to him, but all Johnny did was a slight nod, like he was acknowledging him.

Small win, but a win anyway, you thought.

"Hope he's not your hidden boyfriend or something?" Your old friend looked at you for a second, before taking a turn to the left. "Like, he seems pretty... tense, when he sees me. Like he's protecting something."

You needed a few seconds to process what Cody was implying; and when you understood, you couldn't help but laugh and with disbelief. "No, he's completely harmless. Seriously, it's just... maybe he doesn't take strangers well, you know."

"Does he give strangers a distress hotline number instead of yours, or is it just me?" he grinned, and even then, you could hear the question in his tone, which made you gulp a little.

Well, if you’d think this way...

"Well. Johnny is... he's..."

Best friend. He's your best friend.

Why couldn't it leave your mouth?

"He's my... Johnny." You eventually said, looking at him. "He's like that, you'd understand after some time. But he's not my hidden boyfriend or something."

"Note taken. Would be awkward, if I'd taken you on a date and didn't know that." He laughed, shaking his head. "He'd probably kill me, huh?"

You laughed at this too, instead of telling him how Soap was already not pleased with you going out with him, and he was only your... best friend, technically. Heaven only knew what would happen if you'd want to meet Cody if you were in a relationship with him.

It was the possessiveness speaking. If anyone wanted to know something about MacTavish, he was possessive about his things. Obsessively so; it was cute when he clutched the Subway's sandwich to his chest from Ghost, when his friend wanted to take a bite. You, of course, had permission to take it (just a little bite since you were a girl), but no one else could. He cared about his things, he didn't let anyone touch his stuff if it had a sentimental matter to him.

The funny thing about it, he was possessive about people too, which sometimes irritated you to the core; he could have multiple friends and all, but you? Oh, he was interrogating the shit out of them, giving you the side eye if they managed to plan something with you before he did. He felt like he came before anyone, no matter what.

Not to mention, he was only like this about guy friends. Like a dog with a bone that's too precious to give to others. Funny thing is, they didn't even flirt with you, and he was acting like they were stealing you from him.

So, it wasn't really surprising when he didn't want to let you go out with Cody, especially that he somehow knew that you two had a history. You were thankful enough he didn't make a scene right in front of him because that would be humiliating.

Especially when your date seemed to be so nice. Not only did he open the car door for you, but also the restaurant's one, and you couldn't help but smile at that little gesture, nodding to him as a silent thank you. What was even better, you loved the place he chose for tonight.

Your old friend had to remember your taste, considering that the Italian restaurant was probably the prettiest building you've seen in a while. A lot of warm lamps around, climatic music that got your attention right when you walked into the room, greeted by an older waiter with a mustache; everything screamed Italy here, and you were taking in the view with pleasure.

"You like it so far?" Cody looked up at you from the menu; his bright, green eyes sparkled with curiosity in dim light. You suddenly felt bad, since you appreciated the effort more than you've probably let him know.

So, you nodded quickly, your painted nails clicking against the table. "Reminds me of this one restaurant back at home. You know, where we went with Stacy and others?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I remember." He laughed, shaking his head "I remember how Stacy spilled expensive wine on your shirt. Before meeting with your moms, you were pretty pissed back then."

You opened your eyes a little wider at this memory, suddenly remembering it; yeah, Stacy did something like that. What was also important to mention, you were right before an important dinner with your moms and their friends (Price involved), and the tragedy was huge back then. "So, you do remember things, huh?"

"Most of them," he admitted, tilting his head to the side with that boyish charm that he always had. It was something you couldn't really take away from him. "If something is worth remembering, I remember. Mostly situations with you."

It would be a lie if you'd say that dinner didn't go smoothly – because it did. Perfectly, even, knowing how much of a gentleman Cody was, how swiftly he balanced between topics, trying to entertain you. Trying to at least get a glimpse of your life that he didn't get to know since you left your hometown after being deployed and you cut ties with most of your friends. It was something that you liked, something that you adored, knowing he once was interested in you, and you were in him, when you were at high school.

Key words: high school.

As much as you liked him now, you knew it wouldn't work the moment waiter brought your food, and you awkwardly smiled to him, when he bon apetite'd you. Even if he tried to be smug, conversation wasn't effortless like you wanted it to be, you didn't like the way he asked you about your work, implying how it was men's work. Maybe it wasn't evident at first sight, but comments about you ruining your nails and your struggle as the only woman, and everything like that, irritated you.

Maybe it was you being hypersensitive, but you didn't really enjoy comments like this, no matter who it would be.

The chemistry between you two wasn't sparkling as well, and as much as you kept yourself from admitting it, you couldn't brush off a feeling that you would enjoy time with Johnny better. Hell, you were sure that your Scot would make those few hours a lot better. Movies, cooking together, even visiting the gym together... anything.

You felt bad for the thought, when Cody was so nice overall – yet, not nice in a way that would interest you.

"Is that your friend?" You heard him, which brought you back to Earth; he frowned, as he looked behind you. You were sitting right by the window, so he had a pretty clear view on the street.

"Friend?" You raised your eyebrow, amused.

"From earlier on."

You turned around, to see if your date was right; you doubted, really doubted that Cody would see Soap. Your friend was anything but someone that would disturb your date. "I really don't think Johnny..."

Well, Johnny indeed was here, and the thought of him not interrupting your date was completely crushed. You had to give him credit, though; he wasn't that recognizable, you didn't catch him right in the moment. He was in his dark sunglasses and brown cap; if the situation would've been different, you could laugh at how ridiculously similar he looked to all the Marvel characters when they had to hide.

Back then, you balanced on the line between being amused and furious that he didn't respect your time enough with someone else.

Having fun, Johnny?

As you observed him, you saw how quickly he looked around; for a brief moment, you felt like his gaze was on you, and it only confirmed itself when he started typing in his phone again.

dinnae ken what yer talkin about.

"I guess he's just here." You shrugged, lying to him swiftly. "It's the center of the town, yeah? Things... happens."

Cody chuckled, playing with his fork. "Yeah. Yeah. Maybe he is. As long as he doesn't disturb our date, right? It's too nice."

You're a menace to the society, MacTavish; you swiftly typed out under the table. "Yeah. It's too nice." you agreed, even if you thought how interesting it got only because your best friend was outside.

and yer mean: (

You had to hold back a laugh when you've read it; so, you put your phone down and came back to talking with Cody, eating and drinking that delicious wine; you knew you had to buy a bottle after this little adventure. Maybe they didn't sell it, but you were willing to try as soon as the waiter would come with the bill.

It was a personal win for you to come out twenty minutes later out of this restaurant with a bottle in your hand, laughing to your date about something convincing enough to sell it to you. You had to speak with two managers, but it was yours after all, ready to go home with you.

Soap was ready too, even if he acted like he wasn't here; you turned down Cody's proposition of taking you home just to call your best friend to ask where he is exactly, since he disappeared from that bench before you knew it.

"Over the date already? Had to suck, eh?" His eyebrow arched, as he wrapped his arm around your waist. "Sad. But yer sure that lad ain't for you."

"You know," you started, as you grabbed his glasses, just to wear it yourself "if you wouldn't be such a stalker, I'd let you drink wine with me at home. But, now, I have doubts about it."

"Stalker? C'mon. A simple coincidence, that is," he chuckled, as you two walked into his car. "Not my fault you'd rather have me on this date, not him. Can't really blame ya, hen."

You could feel how your face heated up in the moment; maybe if his statement wasn't true, you'd react differently, maybe you would think of a snarky comment. Back then, when you felt exactly like he said, well... It was hard enough.

He seemed to catch the hesitant look at your face, considering how smiley he got. "Oh? Got ye real good, if yer blushin'—"

"—you imagine too much, Johnny, " you mumbled out, as you got more comfortable in your seat, ready to go. "Let's go home, yeah?"

"'st sayin', bonnie. I could have a better date, even at home."

You didn't say anything about his reply. Not because it wasn't true (because it was), not because you were at a loss of words, but because you were conflicted about him and you having a date, when you two were friends. Was he honest, or playing like he always did?

It was just easier to think of it as just banter, ignore it, than actually take him seriously; because if you did and he would have to explain it to you it was just a joke... You were pretty sure that death of embarrassment was gonna happen, honestly. John was too important to you, friendship with him was too important to you to experiment with things like that.

Besides, it wasn't like you two would fit, right? There was a difference between being friends and someone that you could date. Your best friend was great, but as a lover? You didn't know this side of him, you could only guess.

When you finally arrived, you automatically left the car with your head in the clouds. Maybe that's why you haven't even noticed that your best friend was on the other side, trying to open the door for you; and that end up badly, considering that you've hit him with the door.

Low "fuck" snapped you from your thoughts, as well as him holding his nose; you immediately approached him, your expression bashful.

"I'm so sorry, Soap, I—"

"—S'alright." He shook his head, smiling at you like it was nothing. "I've been worse, you know. 'Suppose I deserved that." He nudged you, laughing when you rolled your eyes.

"It wasn't intentional," you groaned, grabbing his arm to start walking with him. "Come on, I'm gonna check it. Just in case."

"Apartment first, ma'am."

So, as soon as you were in the apartment with him, you had to check if nothing was broken – and even if it sounded like a wild thought, breaking a nose in close contact with the car's door, literally everything was possible with Soap, so it was better to be safe than sorry. Wouldn't be the first time that you did something to him without intention of doing it.

Once, when he pretended to be a burglar (he thought it would be funny this way) and he grabbed you from behind in your apartment, you hit him with a flower pot. You laughed afterwards, but you were pretty mad at him in the first ten minutes, trying to find something with ice that would help his headache.

After you checked everything, he seemed to be good. At least, excluding the moment where he thought it would be funny to whine and make you worry, which you smacked him for, but that was just his idiotic side speaking.

This incident though was definitely a lighter one. You've found yourself cleaning his shirt with soap and cold water, since he had a few drops of blood on it, and somehow you felt responsible there wouldn't be any stain left. Soap kept you company even then, shirtless, leaning against the doorframe to have a joke or two about how well you are cleaning blood, suggesting that you have "close connections" with underground fighters.

A simple answer would be period, but you didn't feel like going into that kind of conversation, so you just agreed, telling him he has to book you for the next cleaning. His laugh was everything.

Quickly after this, you were off to sleep, tired with the events of the day; you really needed a good rest, where you'd wrap yourself in the sheets, a warm nest around you. Calm environment, nothing to worry about since you were on leave, and your best friend was in your apartment too, it was the sense of safety here.

Except, your nightmares had a bit different plans than you had.

Ruthless, like they needed to remind themselves, and the worst thing about it was: you lived through every one of them. It wasn't something of your imagination, monsters and creatures that had no place in the real world, no – the realness of it all was scary. The memories you had from missions blended perfectly with events that didn't happen, causing you to have a heart-attack experience.

Nightmares about your team were the worst; where everyone was killed. Where you couldn't do anything but scream; this time, you watched their execution, as every one of your boys were killed right in front of you. Gun wounds, humiliation, where killers wanted them to beg for their life, when they cut the fingers of your comrades just to shoot them afterwards.

And you had to watch all of it, teary-eyed, just begging to stop all this madness.

The worst moment was when royal blue eyes looked right into yours, terrified, with a silent plea in them, hoping that you're gonna be the one to save his life; and the worst thing was, you knew you're gonna fail him. You knew there was nothing you could do to prevent the bloodshed, not when your body refused to move, not when you couldn't even move your finger, nor legs to defend them.

To defend him.

You remembered screaming, when the hope died in his eyes; silent, maybe meaningless words from your side that you're gonna fix all of this, no matter what. How you were the only one alive, and it felt worse than being dead with all of them.

And then, you woke up.

Your breath rapid, shuddery, you had no control over it, as well as you had no control over tears streaming down your face, without you acknowledging the fact of them. The only element that you saw? A pair of blues, looking at you with horror.

Owner of them shook you gently, trying to get you out of the trance you were in; after a minute you were pretty sure that he was talking, but you couldn't really recall what.

You had other things in mind.

"You're alive," you said, breathing out; he seemed shocked at least with your statement, but as he held your hands in his, he nodded quickly.

"Yeah. Yeah, 'm alive. Always will," he whispered. For a moment, the two of you were just looking at each other in silence and breathing. He took as it personal job to ease your nerves, and you could say that he really succeeded at it – the feeling like someone ripped your heart from your chest, slowly but surely vanished. "Better?"

"A bit," you murmured, sighing. You felt kind of bad, even if it wasn't your fault entirely. "I woke you up. I'm so sorry Johnny, I don't even—"

"—sssh. None of that right now, lassie, 'salright." He shook his head, leaning even more in your direction. "Come on. Give me a bosie."

"A bosie?" you chuckled, wiping away your tears. "It's a... hug, or...?"

"It's a hug, aye," he laughed too, wrapping his arms around you tightly – he knew how you liked to be hugged, he knew what you needed back then.

Soap hid his face in your hair, as he caressed your spine softly. He whispered a lot of words back then; soothing ones, encouraging, sweet nothings that made your heart go. How you weren't alone in all of this, how you could always count on him, how he was always gonna be here, no matter what was gonna happen.

All of this, in his arms, slightly rocked back and forth by him, seemed like the sweetest promise ever made, when you listened to his heart, slowly coming back to normal, just like your breath did not long ago. You two had magical influence on each other, you knew, but seeing it in action had you on a chokehold.

If this would be possible, you'd never leave this hug. You were more than happy to stay there with your eyes closed, your arms tightly around him, chin on top of his arm, where you could just smell his scent that somehow calmed you even more.

"'m gonna bring you a glass of water. Then, you're gonna go to sleep, all right?"

You couldn't care less about a glass of water, when you had all you needed in one person.

“Can you... stay?" you asked, slowly, when he started getting out of your bed. Somehow, you felt out of place asking that, but you needed to do this, even if it could seem outward weird to him.

You saw how he froze for a moment, before sitting in your bed again. "Of course."

This wasn't the first time; you once comforted him in bed, you slept next to him on missions just to keep both of you warm, but that was definitely the first time when both of you felt... more intimate. Like it was a change in the air, and after all it was your bed, in your apartment, and you wanted him to be next to you because he brought you comfort.

And because, somehow, it felt like he belonged here.

He spooned you from behind – one of his arms going under your head, so you could easily use it as a pillow if you'd only want, the other around your waist, like he was personally protecting you from anything that could happen to you. His body heat hit you the moment you snuggled more under the sheets. Soap was like a personal heater, ready to do anything to keep you warm.

You were in heaven.

"This will do?" he asked, his voice low. "Is it good for you, lassie?"

"...yeah." You smiled under your nose, when he ruffled your hair with the tips of his fingers, when you laid your head on his arm. "Good."

"Mhm. Sleep now, I'm gonna be here, if you need me." He kissed the back of your head, and from that gesture alone, you just knew for a fact that he was smiling too. "You know I love you, right?"

"I know. Love you too."

And for the first time, it felt a bit different from "I love you" than usual.

#soap x reader #soap x you #johnny mactavish x reader #johnny mactavish x you #x reader #cod x reader #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap fluff #soap fanfic #friends to lovers #soap cod #soap call of duty #john mactavish

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gloomwitchwrites · 1 month

Text

By the Belt (3 of 4)

Mechanic John "Soap" MacTavish x Female Reader

Content & Warnings: married couple, oral sex (female receiving), unprotected piv (wrap it up irl), creampie

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: Part of the Imagines & What If Series

Soap needs a distraction, and you’re going to give it to him.

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist // by the belt masterlist

It’s Sunday. John’s shop is closed on Sunday.

Even so, he’s always working on something, his hands unable to lean into idleness for a moment. They desire something to hold, to tinker and learn and explore.

It’s the late afternoon, and you stand in John’s personal garage located at the back of your shared property. His actual shop is nearby, just a mile or so down the road. This is sacred space. The place he goes to work on all sorts of personal projects. You are off to the right of him beside his knees. John is on his back, partially submerged beneath a lifted car.

That always makes you nervous, even though you know he’s careful about his safety. You always imagine the machine keeping the car aloft breaking, sending the vehicle down to crush him. The car itself is vintage, a special project that John has been working on for months. The paint is stripped and its mostly bare bones.

Beneath the car, you hear John sigh heavily. He rolls out from under the car, the wheels on the rolling bed squeaking as he does so. When he notices you standing there, he immediately grins.

“Hello, wife,” he croons, sitting up and draping his forearms over his bent knees.

“Hello, husband,” you reply, matching his tone. His smile widens and a warmth blooms in your cheeks. “Thought you could use a break.”

Grinning, he pushes up to standing, crossing his arms over his chest. “What kind of break?”

With boldness in your blood, you reach out and slide your fingers in the belt loops of his dirty jeans. John stumbles forward, nearly knocking into you. That grin briefly transforms into surprise before settling into a sultry smirk.

“Oh, aye. I could use a break.” He leans in, your mouths meeting in a lovingly gentle kiss that warms you right down to your toes. When he breaks apart, that lovely grin is back. “But I’d hate to dirty your pretty skin with my hands.”

You tug on his belt again, smiling. “What if I want to get dirty?”

John laughs, his stained, oiled fingers hovering just shy of your skin. “You sure, love? Because I can do that.” Your answer is a brief yank on his belt. John shakes his head. “I warned you.”

You unthread your fingers and John makes a turn-around gesture. You comply, eagerness in your bones.

“Bend yourself over that table.” John points directly in front of you. It’s a workbench. There are a few tools but they’re off to the side, leaving the middle completely open.

Stepping up to it, you place your hands flat on the surface, bending forward, the angle forcing you up on your toes. John leaves you there. Lingering. Hanging. You have no idea if he’s watching you and enjoying the sight, or if he’s simply turned around and walked right out of the garage.

But you have your answer when John’s voice floats toward you.

“Lift up your dress,” he instructs, some rasp in his tone. He does not touch you, but you feel his presence. He’s close. You swear that you can feel his heat of the backs of your thighs as you reach back with both hands and lift your sundress up to your hips.

You are exposed to him. Utterly bare.

“Fuck. You dirty girl,” croons John, and you know exactly what he sees—or rather, what he doesn’t. “All bare under there. You knew what you were doing. Didn’t you?”

You did. You absolutely did.

Still, John does not touch. You hear the soft crinkle of his jeans as he goes down on his knees behind you, his warm breath brushing lightly against your pussy as he exhales.

“Spread for me a bit.” You shift your legs apart slightly. “Good,” he praises. “Like that.”

The moment you’re in position, John’s tongue parts your pussy with a slow stroke. He begins at your clit, moves upward, dipping the tip of his tongue into your sex before retreating. His hands rest on the table on either side of you, unmoving. Staying true to his word, John isn’t dirtying your pretty skin, but doesn’t mean he might not lose some control and touch you anyway.

Really, that’s what you want after all.

Using just his tongue, John traces circles, swirls up and down your sex, moves in languid motions that have you guessing. Every nerve is burning up like a sparkler. Your husband is teasing you, and fucking enjoying that he’s doing so.

He leaves nothing untouched, nothing untasted. Whimpering, John lightly kisses your clit, teasing it with the tip of his tongue. It’s not nearly enough.

“Stay still,” he chuckles, when your hips buck with wanton irritation. “Let me finish my meal.”

John’s mouth promptly returns, and you know you’re done. Utterly done. Brain dead. Air rapidly leaving a balloon. He sucks on your clit, then penetrates you with his tongue, only to do it all again. With each, he sucks just a bit harder, bordering on painful pleasure.

The next one has you nearly coming off the table.

“I’m gonna fuck you after this, love,” groans John. “Bloody hell, you’re sweet.”

He dives in and your nails dig into the tabletop, your voice cracking as you orgasm. You feel his smile against your flesh before his mouth disappears from it, only to be replaced by the familiar sound of unzipping jeans.

The head of his cock presses at your entrance but doesn’t penetrate. John lightly guides the head back and forth through your slickness, the sound of it echoing loudly in the garage.”

“Will you be a good girl and take it?”

You nod enthusiastically, strands of your hair shifting to stick against the back of your neck. “Yes,” you breathe. “Please.”

With a low moan, John starts to press in, your body not resisting, only wanting him inside. You both groan loudly as he bottoms out. Adjusting, John places his hands firmly above your head, anchoring himself.

He breathes deep, and reaches for your wrists, one at a time, trapping them against the table. John rolls his hips, thrusts lightly against you. It’s the perfect angle. You feel everything.

John increases the pace. Those light, almost shallow thrusts become languid and long, hitting deep when your bodies come together. From there, his thrusts turn sharp, a smacking pace that stings your flesh. You hardly care. John’s cock inside you is heaven, the thing just to ease the lust in your bones.

Every stroke is lovely, sending shivers of pleasure through your limbs. Your little moans become breathy exhales, your words leaving your lips silently, delivered only to the quietness of the air.

John’s head dips, his lips brushes over your exposed shoulder as he continues to thrust. “Gonna come inside you, love.”

It is not a question, and you will always say yes even if he asks.

His last few thrusts shake the table, the legs scaping against the concrete just before John holds his hips flush to yours. The groan as he finishes comes from deep within his throat. It’s a primal sound.

Glancing up, you watch as his grip on your wrists shift. He’s left some of that grease behind from working on the car on your skin. He said he wouldn’t mar it, but he couldn’t resist, and that feels like a victory.

John presses a kiss to your shoulder, and you tilt your head in his direction, seeking his gaze, even as he keeps himself inside you.

“Good break?” you murmur.

John chuckles. “Oh, aye.” He shrugs, nods toward your wrists. “But we need to get clean.”

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killerpancakeburger · 9 days

Text

Breaking point (2/2)

SUMMARY: Civilian!Reader, who works as Price's assistant, has a breakdown at work. Soap+Ghost help the best they can. Hurt/comfort. Can be read as platonic or romantic. Gender Neutral Reader.

PAIRINGS: Soap x GN!Reader

Ghost's version (1/2)

TAGS: Hurt/comfort. Military inaccuracies (I make shit up for the sake of the plot). Soap is tooth-rotting sweet.

WARNINGS: Mention of relative in the hospital, suicide ideation, depressive thoughts, swearing.

WORD COUNT: 4.3k

A/N: Very self-indulgent, Reader is going through it and so am I. 🙃Soap is Prince Fucking Charming (very cliché romance tropes). Yours truly suggest to listen to "Strong For Somebody Else" by Citizen Soldier to set the mood. (Song includes suicide ideation and depressive thoughts too, so listen at your own risk).

This bad good boy gave me a harder time than expected lol.

After ending the call, you put down your phone on your desk in a daze, hand shaking.

The news you’ve just been told cannot be real. Life could not possibly be that cruel. What did I do to deserve this? you wonder helplessly. It’s like every time you get back up, life knocks you down again, sending you tumbling on the cold, hard ground.

Clenching your fists, you stare into space, a thousand thoughts disorderly swirling inside your brain, all bursting with anguish, until a burning tear running down your cheek brings you back to the present. You’re at work, your boss is in the next room; a breakdown is a luxury you cannot afford right now. Better bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood than be caught sobbing.

Inhaling a shaky breath, you take your head between your hands, shoving your fingers into your hair, trying to convince yourself to postpone your nervous collapse. Only one hour left, and you’ll be free to cry your eyes out at your flat. Or on the way home, even. It’s not like the other passengers ever paid you attention the other times you’ve cried on the bus.

But somehow your attempts have the opposite effect, and more tears roll down your face, staining the papers beneath it. As you furiously wipe your face with your sleeve, with a blend of frustration and despair, pissed at yourself, and wanting to get rid of the evidence of your fragile state as fast as possible, the unmistakable sound of your office’s door opening makes you look up.

Of freaking course of all bloody people that could have walked in on you, it had to be Soap fucking Mactavish. Only the most gorgeous man on base - according to you, that is.

You weren't proud of it, but you had a crush on him since you arrived, six months ago. His piercing cerulean eyes, rugged good looks and outgoing personality wouldn’t let you know peace. The mere sight of him was enough to bring a goofy smile to your face, and every conversation between the two of you left you blushing and elated.

You initially thought that this silly, juvenile infatuation would fade away soon enough. Ok, he was beautiful, and he had eyes to damn yourself for, so what? Surely with enough time and exposure, he'd feel mundane. But things didn’t go that way at all.

On top of looking stunning, he just had to be friendly. He made you feel welcome when you arrived. He made efforts to include you in conversations, asking questions to get to know you. He relieved you of the burden of small talk, appeasing your social anxiety, by happily keeping the conversation going on his own, never taking offense when you had nothing to say. He chose to spend some of his free time with you, escorting you back from the archives or dropping by your office.

He was even flirty at times. Flirty. With you.

You could have still disregarded all this; tell yourself he was like this with everyone, that it was just his personality; imagining things would only end up with you hurt in the end.

But then, during a meeting, you witnessed his sincere concern for civilian lives. His righteous anger against unjust orders, when you had fully expected a soldier to obey mindlessly.

This had been your undoing; the moment you knew you were a goner. A severe fondness for him had sunk its claws deep inside your chest and had no intent to let go. It didn’t mean you had any intention to declare your feelings though; you never entertained the thought that he could return them, therefore there was no need for any confession.

For him to be the one to have caught you in this state, it was downright humiliating. Especially since his good heart would make him feel obligated to care.

He was still wearing his leather, fingerless gloves, and some dirt lingered on the contour of his face, like he tossed his weapons and his flak jacket to the side right out of the heli bringing him back to base, and rushed here.

“Hiya hen, brought you the- Shite, what happened?”

His booming voice and cheerful tone fade away as his eyes widen with concern. He briefly freezes at the door in shock before closing the distance to your desk with great strides. You lower your eyes in shame, avoiding his gaze.

“Nothing. Nothing happened. Everything's fine.”

“No offense, bonnie, but yer not very good at lying.”

You bit your lip, forcing yourself to look at him. Staring at your own lap is only going to make you seem more suspicious.

You grit your teeth and lie some more, trying to sound carefree.

“It's nothing, really. I'm just being a crybaby.”

Crybaby.

Soap turns the word over in his mind, unconvinced.

He still remembers that one time when you showed up thirty minutes late to a meeting with the Task Force, panting, leaning on the threshold, the front of your clothes soaked in blood.

“Sorry I’m late,” you started.

“‘Sorry’ isn’t going to cut it,” Price interrupted before laying eyes on you. “Bloody hell, what happened to you?”

You explained how Private what's-his-name bled out in the break room after carelessly reopening his stitches and you had to stop the hemorrhage with your bare hands and a bunch of paper towels while shouting yourself hoarse for help. Yet when Price ordered you to take the rest of the day off, you insisted on going on as usual, forcing their captain to make it clear that it wasn’t a mere suggestion.

You and him had a different definition of “crybaby”.

Clinging to what's familiar, you focus on the stack of papers under his arm.

“You have the latest reports? Give it here.”

You hold out your hand expectantly. Instead of giving them to you, he sets them down on the opposite side of your desk, out of your reach.

“Paperwork can wait.”

You blink in astonishment at him.

“No it cannot…?”

You roll your eyes at his behavior and get up to seize the reports, but he snatches them from you. You can feel your composure snap like a twig.

“Johnny, what the hell?!” you yell, throwing your hands in the air.

You could remember exactly the first time you called him Johnny, only because it had been such an embarrassment. You couldn’t get used to his alias; sure you had been warned beforehand that some of them were… original, but somehow "Soap" was the one that stood out as the most ridiculous. You briefly entertained the idea of using his first name, except that for you “John” already referred to Captain Price. Only once you tried to call him Mr Mactavish, and as a result Gaz and him guffawed so hard they almost fell off their chairs. Even Ghost let out a cough that was most definitely a concealed laugh. You were running out of options until you heard the lieutenant call him Johnny; you instantly liked it. It just… fitted him.

From that moment on you used the nickname, but only in your mind. You didn’t have any of the liberties Ghost had and you wouldn’t take them, out of respect, and shyness. Or at least this had been the plan until you fumbled and called him that to his face. The ensuing silence felt deafening as you were realizing what you’ve just done, and you apologized immediately, mortified.

He just laughed it off; said you could keep calling him that. True, he had appeared more surprised than irritated, but you didn’t want to take the risk of him simply being polite. This too, had been your plan, until he ruined it merily.

Somehow he must have noticed your efforts to not slip up again because he teased you about it.

“Not Johnny today? Did ah dae something wrong?”

You went back to “Johnny” quickly - anything to put an end to the mischievous glint in his eye and the rascally smirk on his lips aimed at you. Being the target of his undivided attention sent a pang in your chest and knots in your stomach. Those sensations weren't exactly unpleasant, but it led to an ominous feeling that this was too good to be true, and that at any second this vision would shatter to reveal the cruel reality; so you'd just grant him a timid smile to confirm he did amuse you, but then proceed to look away.

It's the first time you’re pronouncing “Johnny” with anger; real, raw annoyance, as well as animosity, instead of the fond frustration you usually display when he messes around.

To your utter disbelief, he smiles in response to your outburst.

“There we go, talk tae me. Even if it’s just tae scream at me.”

The remark pacifies you instantly; you lower your arms, defeated.

“I'm not gonna… I don't want to scream at you.”

You sigh and sit back, setting down your elbows on your desk to take your head between your hands, overburdened.

“The hell you want me to tell you? That my mom's on the brink of death out of nowhere? That when she's gone I'll be all alone in this world?”

You swear, aggravated, as tears sting your eyes again, and this time you ignore if you'll be capable of holding back the flood.

Nevertheless you can still hear Soap curse under his breath, Scottish accent growing thicker, before moving to get on your side of the desk, to reach you, dispensing soft-spoken, soothing words along the way. You pivot to face him, your burning eyes and the sensation of dried tears on your face making you painfully aware that you must look as pathetic as you feel.

Your eyes widen in surprise when you see him kneeling at your feet. His hands reach for your face, slowly enough to give you time to back away if you wanted to.

“A'm sorry, ah didnae mean tae mak' ye cry, a'm a bloody eejit. …Can I?”

His fingers stopped a breath away from your tear-stained cheeks.

At that exact moment you can’t quite believe what he's about to do, yet you nod your head in agreement - not trusting your voice to not break - all the same, the gaping void in your chest aching for any kind of contact he'd be willing to provide.

His warm fingers cup your cheeks as the pad of his thumbs gently, almost reverently, wipe the underside of your eyes.

“There we go,” he cajoles, meticulously drying any wet spot on your skin.

“A'm ‘ere whether ye want tae talk or not, aye? A'm not going anywhere.”

You stare at him in silence, thunderstruck by the scene unfolding in front of you. Never in your wildest dreams you would have expected to have this man at your feet. He sets his hands down on your knees, squeezing them softly, and is looking right at you, encouraging smile and tender gaze, reassurance radiating from his expression. The position allows you to greedily take in every little detail: the white line of the scar on his chin, the breathtaking shades of blue in his eyes, the gap in his left eyebrow.

As you lose yourself into the work of art that are his features, he keeps conversing.

“We should take yer mind aff things. We could play board games in tha rec room. Or ye could let aff some steam wi’ tha punching bag in tha training room! Ah could teach ye how tae shoot on tha shooting range-”

You open your eyes wide as his suggestions turn progressively more violent.

“I have a bus to catch, and that's overlooking the fact that I haven't done anything in my last hour of work today…”

“If anyone gives you trouble, just say ah forced you.”

You chuckle at the idea.

“You'd never compel me to do anything.”

You can’t repress a loving smile. Johnny just feels that safe to you.

He smirks mischievously at that.

“Na, but they'll believe ah dragged ye intae mah evil schemes.”

He punctuates his statement by a roguish wink that wrests a laughter from you.

“You should take my bed,” he declares suddenly, serious again.

As the silence between you two stretches and your smile is replaced by a mix of shock, confusion, and worry, he realizes how this may sound. Flustered, he starts rambling to defuse the situation.

“Wait, no- steamin’ jesus - Ah didnae mean it like that! I’d take the couch in the rec room, ‘f course. Ye shouldn't go through tonight alone.”

“Oh my god, Johnny, I could never take your bed from you. You must already sleep on the floor so often for missions…”

“Exactly, hen. This is nothing for me. The couch is a hotel compared to that.”

You open your mouth to argue more, but then he makes an expression that can only be described as sad puppy eyes, even going as far as slightly tilting his head to the side to perfect the impression. You gulp in response, stricken straight through the heart, and knowing pertinently that you could already hardly refuse him anything, so if he begins to gaze at you like that…

“Pretty please?”

Oh no. Not that line.

He's now excessively batting his eyelashes at you, which, while not exactly alluring, is both comical and endearing. Hell, who are you even kidding? You’re so smitten with this blue-eyed creature, is there any act from him you wouldn’t find endearing?

“Are you… pouting?”

“Depends. Is it working?”

You sigh, aware it's a losing battle, and look away, a futile attempt to hide the ridiculously potent effect he has on you, or to at least shield yourself from his influence, if only momentarily.

“I think you know the answer to that.”

“Maybe ah just wantae hear ye say aye tae me.”

Your cheeks catch fire at the suggestiveness of the words. As if the regular rasp of his voice, that felt like an exquisite caress along your spine, wasn’t already making it incredibly difficult to keep your face at a reasonnable temperature.

“You're gonna get me fired, Johnny.”

“Over my dead body,” he retorted with surprising determination, solemnly pressing a hand over his heart.

You scoff indulgently. Coming from anyone else, the hastily taken oath would be preposterous, but Soap has always proved himself trustworthy.

“Let's go. Your knees must be sore,” you mumble, trying to sound casual.

“Wanna make a joke aboot mah stamina when kneeling but ah will keep it fur next time,” he slips as he stands up, way too smugly for your own good, so you pretend you didn’t hear anything. As if you needed any more incitement into picturing him on his knees in a different context.

You get up quickly after, but he does not get out of your way. You rise a quizzical eyebrow, his close proximity triggering alarm bells inside your head. If he remains near enough for you to feel his body heat, you’re going to get dizzy.

He simply grins.

“Want a hug?”

He opens his muscled arms, smile genuine, almost blinding, like a tacit invitation, and all your reluctance seems to evaporate with that simple gesture. Before you can linger any more on the harmful consequences this lack of restraint will eventually cause, you throw yourself into his embrace. It feels like falling and flying all at once.

You blink at the unexpected question. Yes, implores your touchstarved mind. YES, cries out your sensitive, enamored heart.

No way, rebuffs your cautious brain. It will only hurt more knowing what you can’t have.

Your hands close on the back of his shirt, near his shoulder blades, and, pressing your face into his shoulder to make the world disappear for a moment, you cling to him like he could rescue you from the sinking ship that was your sick mind. One of his arms close around your waist while his free hand rubs your back, leaving trails of fire in its wake, but bringing you much-appreciated comfort nonetheless.

“You're too nice to me. I feel like I'm taking advantage of your kindness.”

He remains silent a drawn-out second, and you're terrified you just screwed everything up.

“Yer givin me too much credit, lass “ he finally says. “Ah don't go ‘round base comforting every person I find.”

His tone isn’t angry, per se, but it lacks its previous joviality.

Soap tilts his head back, biting his lips, thanking the universe that with your face laying against his chest, you can’t perceive his embarrassment.

He can’t tell you. Not yet. Not now.

Months ago, he took the resolve to make you smile more; for a while now he started doing his reports more seriously, or even did the ones of Gaz and Ghost, just to have an excuse to see you, to behold the way your face lightens up when he brings you necessary paperwork before you even demand it.

He can’t tell you that he used to consider writing reports as the worst part of the job until you came along; until you awarded him a heartfelt, radiant smile when he gave you his; that he noticed how little you smiled outside of artificial ones you fabricate for work purposes; that when he manages to make you smile or laugh genuinely, it feels like a prize, that only he is privy to.

And he certainly can’t tell you about that one time where he handed over his reports in advance, but you weren't there, so he left, heart heavy with disappointment, dragging his feet, until he heard your voice coming from the room he just left.

“What are those?” you questionned your coworker.

“Soap just dropped them.”

“But… I didn't even ask him to yet?”

Perplexity combines with glee in your voice.

“He's a good boy, isn’t he?” prompted your colleague.

You let out a fond, wistful sigh, before responding, half-joking.

“I know! Such a good boy for me.”

Getting to hear you beaming over his benevolent action was already a treat, but witnessing that compromising exchange? To be called a “good boy” by you short-circuited him. He swore - “Steamin jesus” -, ears burning, face on fire, covering it with one hand. He needed to leave badly. Seek refuge in his room, where he could be free to replay that tantalizing line on loop in his mind. “Such a good boy for me.”

Your heart beats a bit faster than usual as you obediently follow Soap through corridors you’ve never been in before. You trust him with all your heart, but that doesn't change the fact that what you’re doing is against the rules; and those rules aren't high school's, but the ones of a military base.

You flinch hard as a familiar voice screams in your direction.

“SERGEANT MACTAVISH!”

Oops, you think. That's Captain Price, your supervisor, and he sounds pissed. You never witnessed him calling Soap by his last name before, but that being said, you never saw him deal with a kidnapped assistant either.

You've been caught red-handed.

Your mind begins to come up with plans to lessen the punishments that are without doubt about to descend upon you two, but Johnny grabbing your hand brings you back to reality.

You lift your gaze to him. He doesn't seem worried at all, if anything… is that a spark of delight in his eye?

He only pronounces one word.

“Run.”

So you run, carried away half by adrenaline, and half by the sergeant dragging you. Thankfully Soap is aware that there's no way you can keep up with him and his training, so he comes to a halt a minute later.

Panting hard, you double over, hands clenching your knees for support, heart thumping in your chest, blood throbbing in your ears.

“Why… are we… running…!?” you manage to exhale. “It's only… gonna make… things worse…”

By your side, he's standing fresh as a daisy, barely ruffled by your flight. The sight would be infuriating if his eyes weren't glinting with amusement and he wasn’t offering you a dazzling smile.

“Because it's fun,” he affirms like it's evident.

Little by little, you catch your breath, throwing Johnny a look that's half in earnest, half in jest.

“More fun for you than for me.”

He doesn't get flustered by your moderate reprimand.

“Is it selfish o' me tae wantae spend more time wi' ye? Didnae want us tae git interrupted yet.”

The line feels like a punch to the chest, stealing the breath you just recovered and leaving you agape.

He takes your hand again with the natural of a well earned habit.

“C'm'on, ah have more than one trick up mah sleeve.”

You're unsure which of the views unfurling under your eyes is the most magnificent; the sunset in front of you that's painting the sky in shades of pink and orange, or the striking man by your side whose eyes could rival the most astounding sights.

Nibbling on the dinner Soap smuggled out of the cafeteria with too much ease for it to be his first time, you regularly sneak glances at him as he fills the silence with tales of his adventures - the parts that aren't top secret, at least. You two totally did not break onto the roof moments ago, no sir.

Goosebumps travel along your arms and any exposed skin as the night falls and the sun takes away the warmth with him. You furiously brush the outside of your arms for heat, and you're about to suggest finishing this inside, when a jacket lands on your shoulders.

It is still warm with his owner's bodyheat, deliciously so. You curl up and drag it closer, your face on fire. Realizing that Soap gave you his jacket without you even having to ask or complain about the cold… you’re conflicted between obsessing over this like a giggling schoolgirl, and feeling apologetic.

Once you more or less got your blushing under control, you turn to him, displaying a contrite expression.

“I don't want to take your jacket on top of your bed, Johnny.” you pout.

“A'm a bloody furnace. Wanna check?”

He asks, cheekily, even adding a wink for good measure. As if there was any more artifice needed to make you putty in his hands.

He presents you his bare arm for the taking, all golden skin, bulging muscles and a constellation of white scars.

You indulge him and lay a hand on his bicep, knowing he won't relent otherwise; that is definitly the only reason; it has absolutely nothing to do with your own desires.

Indeed, he's burning. As you envy and bask in the heat provided by his body, forgetting that your touch is lingering too long for someone who is just a coworker, he chooses that moment to flex shamelessly, showing off the impressive circumference of his muscle. You feel obligated to squeeze it in response, a way to finally meet him head-on instead of passively enduring his quips, and it feels like reinforced concrete under your fingers.

You fail to hold back your laughter at his facetious demeanor.

“You're ridiculous.”

The comment holds no bite, a smile brimming with tenderness stretching your lips.

“I'll be the most ridiculous man on the planet if it makes you laugh.”

He's leaning back, hands propped on the ground behind him, head slightly tilted to gaze at you, and the earnestness on his face could almost make you believe his words.

Almost.

But instead a sharp pang pierces your chest, right between your lungs, at heart's level. The smile you return him in spite of yourself oscillates between content and heartbroken, before opting for the latter.

Tomorrow you will ask him, maybe even plead; tomorrow you'll ask him to put an end to the flirting. You cannot bear it.

But just tonight, you'll indulge it. You'll pretend to be normal, a well-adjusted human being, instead of a broken shell; you'll act like an adult for who flirting is a regular event and not the mental equivalent of a nuclear bomb.

You abruptly stand up, dusting yourself off, purposely ignoring the newfound lack of understanding on Soap's face and how his mouth opened for a question.

“It's getting late,” you state, not nearly as casually as you'd like. “I'm beat!”

You're running away and you know it; but you never claimed to be brave. Really, it is the best solution for everyone involved, or at least it's how it has always seemed to be your whole life.

He escorts you to his room - of course he does. Even if he already picked up his things earlier to crash on the couch, already showed the place to you.

As you awkwardly face him on the doorstep after saying your goodbyes and your thanks, unable to look away yet incapable of making eye contact, pain flares in your torso thinking of him, somehow intertwined with joy and gratefulness for his existence. Maybe your inner struggle shows on your face because next thing you know, he cups your cheek, forcing you to look up, but as the deranged idea that he's about to kiss you manifests in a remote corner of your mind, your brain swiftly shuts off as his lips make contact with your forehead.

The touch is light yet your entire being seems gathered on that point of contact.

“G'night, bonnie,” he half-whispers, as if to make sure his words exist only for you.

He grants you one last smile, small but so sweet you feel your heart tightens.

“Good night, Johnny,” you manage to articulate before sheltering in his bedroom. The room smells like him.

The moment the door shuts behind you, you rest against it, tilting your head back, letting out a deep sigh. Morbid curiosity pushes you to glance in the adjacent bathroom's mirror, if only to see what you look after this evening. A flustered mess? A sorrowful wreck?

Catching your reflection's eye makes you grimace as you realize an incriminating detail.

You forgot to give Soap his jacket back.

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nackrosor · 6 months

Text

Mornin' Sunshine

John 'Soap' MacTavish x Teammate!Reader

warnings/tags: MAJOR MW3 SPOILERS, this is all I can say. If you played/watched the new campaign then you know what happened during the last mission. That's all you need to know.

summary: you partake in the "Trojan Horse" mission to stop Makarov once and for all. You're not able to stop him but you prevent thousands of people to die... at the cost of something much more dear to you.

word count: 1,9k.

You’ve been cut off and held back by those Konni bastards while you were heading toward your team to rejoin. You have to cut through their unrelenting forces, losing precious time, until you can dive deeper into the tunnels and rush to aid your mates.

When you finally make it, it’s already too late. The fire has ceased, there’s no Konni in sight anymore nor do you see Makarov anywhere. Your eyes dart for a fleeting moment over all the bodies laying around and with relief you notice more enemies than familiar faces.

Your relief however is short lived for when you raise your gaze, you meet the forlorn looks on the captain, Gaz, Ghost’s faces… They're all standing in front of something, as if their intention is to block it from your view. You immediately notice that Soap is missing and you take a step forward, craning your neck as if expecting to see his face pop up from behind someone’s shoulder.

Price instantly makes a beeline toward you when he sees you move. His hand comes down hard to rest on your shoulder. Your perplexed look meets his intense gaze. There’s something wrong, you can feel it… Something must have happened, but you can't yet seem to understand what.

Your eyes flicker from face to face, your frown growing harder.

"Where's Johnny?" you ask softly, your voice failing you for a moment as if it knows something you don’t.

Upon seeing the worried glances they give each other you can feel your breathing quicken and your stomach starting to churn in anxiety. There's a horrible thought slowly taking form in the recesses of your mind but you try your best to suppress it… because it can't be true. No. It can't be.

"Where… is… Johnny?" your voice is louder now and you stress each word on purpose, making it clear that you demand an answer. Your hard gaze roams over your partners' faces once more but again, you’re only met with distraught looks and silence.

You move to step around Price's body, who's clearly - now you realize - trying to hold you in place.

"Y/N, you shouldn't-"

He tries to stop you but you're growing restless, anxiety eating at you from inside and so you shove your captain out of the way without a second thought.

Your stomach drops the moment you see him. Your heart misses a beat. You can feel the air getting pushed out of your lungs.

Despite your knees buckling, you drag yourself forward like attracted to a magnet, stumbling toward the inert body laying on the ground in a puddle of blood. His head is turned to the other side but you recognize him. How couldn't you? You've lovingly run your hands through that stupid mohawk so many times…

"No…"

A strained lament escapes your lips before your hands fly up to cover your mouth.

This time it's Ghost who steps in your way, taking advantage of your shock to wrap his strong hands around your forearms in order to prevent you from both stepping further and collapsing on the ground.

Your head is shaking in a frantic manner, your breathing growing more ragged by the second. Your eyes are wide open, blood turning to ice in your veins as panic takes hold of you.

"No, no, no, no…"

You sound like a broken record. You can't seem to be able to say anything else. Your mind is empty. Your tongue tied.

Your fingers turn white at the force you use to grab Ghost's vest. You want to shove him out of the way too but this time your arms fail you.

"Fuck off! Get out of my fucking way!" you start yelling at him, forcefully hitting him on his chest with your hands clenched into fists. You don't even know what you're saying or what you're doing. You have no control over the way your body is responding to the shock and grief.

Ghost doesn't flinch, he keeps holding you in place. Your eyes meet his for a fleeting moment and you notice the hurt in them. That rare sight only worsens your distraught state.

Your head starts shaking again, from side to side, rejecting this heinous turn of events - as if you're unwillingness to accept what's happening would change things, bring him back… back to you. It's as if you're expecting him to turn around and flash you one of those smirks of his and tell you that it was only a joke, a fucking horrible not funny at all joke… You wouldn't care. You would jump in his arms and hug him tight, delaying the scolding for later.

"Let me… Let me see him." you say quietly, feeling a lump forming in your throat as you reluctantly shake that remote fantasy off your mind.

"LET ME SEE HIM."

You're switching from subdued anguish to pure rage real quick, back and forth without control.

Ghost's hold on you doesn't budge, despite your every attempt to disentangle yourself from his clench.

You hear the sound of Price's voice but the sharp ringing in your ears makes you unable to decipher his words. You can only feel Ghost's hands releasing you a moment after. You don't hesitate even a second to rush to the body and drop on your knees beside him.

Your arms reach for him out of reflex, like you would always do whenever you saw him. But this time he's not returning the gesture. He can't. He won't move.

Your hands visibly tremble as you reach over to grab his head and turn it your way. Your heart stops once again. You feel something gnawing at the mouth of your stomach, a weight settling there.

"Johnny…" you call out to him in a soft whisper just like you would do every morning to wake him up while running your fingers along his features and through his dark hair.

"Johnny…"

He would always wake up in an instant, as if your touch was the power button to his body. And he would greet you with that beautiful smile of his that would light up even the darkest of days. And he would caress your face, eyes gazing adoringly at you before he would whisper: "Mornin' sunshine."

Your hands cup his cheeks as you lean forward to level your face with his. Your eyes search his bottomless blue gems, but all you're met with is a blank look, a lifeless look. There’s no spark anymore. No lighting up upon seeing your face like after each mission when you would rejoin.

You grab his hands in yours. The same hands that have comforted you, protected you, pleased you, worshiped every inch of your body… His touch was always warm. You would joke about it with him. He had once proclaimed himself your personal radiator and pulled your shaking body against his, simply to have another reason to touch you.

You bring one calloused palm to your face, longing for that same comfort again… but its warmth is fading. His hand is growing cold. The touch is foreign to you. You don't recognize it anymore.

"Please… Wake up …"

You're deliberately avoiding looking at the hole in his forehead. It's like your brain is preventing you from even getting a glimpse of it. If you don't see it, it's not there. Right? It's not there.

Just like the crimson blood leaking from his head is not his. No. No… He's killed plenty of those bastards. It’s their blood. And he's now taking a well deserved rest… Yes. That must be it. He's simply resting. With his eyes open… his pupils unmoving…

You bend even forward, arms wrapping around his body, turning him toward you. You pull him closer, holding him tight in your embrace. You cradle his lifeless shell, rocking back and forth in a frantic, desperate motion.

"Johnny… Oh, love… Please… No…. "

Your voice breaks due to the lump tightening in your throat. Your vision starts to blur and you squeeze your eyes closed as you nuzzle your face against his head. Your hot tears merge with his blood smeared on your skin. You feel its metallic taste on your lips but you don't care. You keep cradling him, pressing his body closer to yours as if you want to absorb him into you, to become one thing. To always have him with you.

Incomprehensible laments leave your lips without respite, your cries subdued and muffled by his flesh. You hold onto his frame for dear life as if you're hanging on by a thread.

Your mates silently watch the heart wrenching scene of you mourning your lover, incapable of saying or doing anything that could bring you any comfort. They're mourning too, in their own way. You all have just lost someone too important.

" Why … Why you… How dare you … How dare you leave me… I'm sorry … I'm sorry I couldn't save you… It should have been me … You don’t deserve it… I love you … I love you so much… Please don't leave me alone …"

Your pain surges out of you like a river in flood. Your voice swaying from shock to anger, from regret to desperation…

You can't believe he's gone. You can't accept it. His life taken from him in a blink of an eye as if he was worth nothing. You should be used to it, to the swiftness of lives getting taken on the field, each day. But when it's the person you love the most succumbing to such a crude unfair death… You can't accept it. You won't accept it.

"I will kill him with my own two hands, Johnny… I swear." you whisper against his ear as if you're confessing a secret, your fingers digging hard in his clothes as your voice trembles with pure rage. "I will wrap my hands around his neck and squeeze… squeeze until I can feel his life leave his worthless body. Until I can see his eyes roll back.” The words come out of you in one breath, spat with venom through your teeth.

“I promise you that."

"Y/N…"

You hear Price's warm voice call out to you. The hint of protest in his tone makes you snap your head in his direction and pin him with a wild- eyed look filled with anguish.

"I WILL KILL HIM." you scream in an outburst of fury, then as if all your forces have suddenly left your body, your shoulders slump and your head drops back against your lover's limp form.

You don't say anything anymore, the only sound coming from you is that of intermittent sobs. You hold desperately onto his body, brushing your lips against his cold skin, tenderly kissing his unresponsive lips. You hug him close until he's taken away from you. Or rather, until you're torn away from him by more than a pair of strong hands. You never lose him from your sight, watching with dread as he's secured into a bag and carried away.

Seeing his motionless body being handled and dragged away like that is excruciating and it serves as the final blow draining you of your last ounce of vitality; he’s really dead. You won’t see him again, talk to him, hug him, kiss him… You’ve just lost the lifeblood to your existence, the ray of sunshine brightening up your days and propelling you to keep going.

You start to feel faint. Your vision flickering and turning black, your body slumping forward toward the ground.

You see Johnny. Yes, your Johnny , promptly kneeling down in front of you, ready to catch you in his arms, to comfort you, take care of you. You smile feebly at the familiarity of the scene, before you close your eyes and abandon yourself to the darkness.

MORE STORIES 🥀

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A.N: I lost someone too recently, so this story was a medium to express my feelings and cope with what happened, in some way. I hope you enjoyed it, as much as a story this sad can be "enjoyed". Also, despite the circumstances I'm happy to be back after months of writer' block.

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angelstate · 4 months

Text

PervertNeighbor!Soap x NaiveFem!Reader.

+18 content warning

PervertNeighbor!Soap who moved into your neighborhood a while ago but was just now sent home after being injured in combat and having to take a long medic leave to recover efficiently, Captain Price knows that if he let Soap stay in the medical wing of the base he would find a way to sneak into the training room and further damage his health.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who had to drop the trash bag he held in his non-injured hand and put it in front of his dick to cover the boner he got when he saw you bend over on all fours in your front garden, taking care of the pretty flowers around the white fence of your house.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who hadn’t felt the touch of a woman in such a long time, before his injury being constantly deployed to different places. Sometimes not even having 10 minutes to jerk off in whatever safe house he was staying in, so when he saw pretty little you displaying your body to him without even meaning to, he knew he had to do something about it.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who after taking care of the problem between his legs went to your house, opened the white fence, and stood behind you, not speaking as his eyes scanned your body, his eyes staying on your ass and the way your back was arched as you pull out the overgrown roots of your lilacs.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who only made his presence known after he saw you struggling with taking out a particularly deep root. “yae need some help, lass?” his voice low and raspy as he let out a chuckle when you yelped in surprise at the sudden sound of a male voice behind you. watching you get up in a panic, taking out your gardening gloves and holding them in your hands.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who pretends to be apologetic for scaring you when he was nothing but pleased as he saw your breast move when you jumped. “sorry, didn’ mean to scare yae lass” a cocky grin on his lips as he heard you stutter something about him not having to worry and that you were distracted, he couldn’t care less about what you said though, he was too focused on looking at the way your lips moved, imagining it was his cock stretching your lips and making you have to swallow your words to not choke as you take all of him in your mouth.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who offers his help to whatever it was that you were having problems pulling out from the ground, wanting to show you how strong he is even if he shouldn’t do anything that requires strength because that could cause long-term damage to his torn muscles.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who spent the next 15 minutes explaining his back and arm injury to you after you denied his help by pointing out he had elastic bandages wrapped all around the upper part of his right arm. saying that he shouldn’t do anything that requires force if he didn’t want to tear his muscles and cause severe damage, claiming your father had made that mistake 7 years ago and now his arms are in constant pain every time he lifts something.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who gets painfully hard after you place a hand on his injured arm to see how swollen it is and reprimand him so softly for offering his help when he should be resting since the injury doesn’t look too good yet.

PervertNeigbor!Soap who decides to take advantage of your words, coming to your home almost every day to ask for help in things he had no problem doing, claiming that “need yae help, lass. don’ wanna cause any more damage to my arm” and naive little you accept his excuse every time, taking such good care of him because you don’t want him to end up with the same long-lasting effects your father has after ignoring the doctor's order of not using his arm a lot.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who comes so often to your house every day that you offer him to stay for the next few days so he doesn’t have to come over multiple times a day, telling him you work from home so it was no problem for you to rearrange your working hours to help him.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who agrees immediately, wasting no time on taking everything he may need to your home and placing it in your bedroom because you can’t expect him to not sleep next to you. What if he needs help at night to go to the bathroom? he needs to be close to you at all times so if he needs anything you’re close enough to help him immediately.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who uses your naiveness as a way of teasing you, when dressing after he showered calling you, and when you enter the room and see he has his pants on his hands, only standing in boxers and telling you “yae wouldn’t mind helping me, right lass?” observing as you get on your knees and avoid making eye contact with him as you help him pull his pants on while looking down to give him a sort of respect he wished you would lose and just look at the bulge on his underwear, take it in your hands and jerk him off through the fabric.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who clearly doesn’t give a shit about decency, walking around with less and less clothing till he just wears boxers around your house, claiming that his back and arm don’t hurt as much without clothes. Naive little you just letting him walk around half naked since you don’t want him to be in more pain that he probably already was without clothes on.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who after spending two weeks living in your house comes to you with a really big problem he needs help with, telling you to come to your bedroom and lock the door for a reason he doesn’t want to tell you.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who only reveals the problem to you after making you promise you would help him no matter what. moving away the pillow on his lap and throwing it somewhere in the bed, displaying the sight of his big and thick cock, fully hard and leaking precum from the tip.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who reminds you of your promise when you don’t say anything after 20 seconds of pure silence, taking a hold of your wrist and pulling you to him and mumbling “my arm hurts lass, why don’ yae be good and help me, hm?”

PervertNeighbor!Soap who groans when you grab a hold of his boner with hesitance, the warmth of your hand feeling heavenly against his aching cock, urging you to get on your knees so it’s easier for you to take him in your mouth.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who grabs a hold of your hair, pushing your head down a little too roughly, not able to contain his excitement of finally having you on your knees, sucking on his cock like how he imagined first met you.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who swore he would be gentle as to not scare you but as soon as you licked his tip he felt the need to fuck your mouth, making you gag on his thick and big shaft, stretch your mouth to full capacity as you try to take all of him.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who does just that, forcing your head lower, making you take his cock till your nose makes contact with his dark and untrimmed pubes. making you gag as he starts to thrust into your mouth, not letting you lift your head as he hits the back of your throat continuously to the point it starts to hurt.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who tells you to relax your throat or you will continue to gag and have difficulty breathing, and he doesn’t want that (he does want that) mumbling praises when you listen to him and do as he tells you “taking such good care of me, lass” thrusting after every word.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who starts to throat fuck you hard and fast, until he forces your head all the way down into his cock once more, holding you there as he comes into your throat, forcing you to swallow as he doesn’t let you move your head away until you do.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who finally lets you off his cock, watching as you move your face away from his softening shaft, coughing, your lips swollen and drool dripping from the corner of your mouth. your makeup smudged from your tears when you struggled to take all of him.

PervertNeighbor!Soap who says he’ll make it up to you when his injury heals but for now why don’t you clean his dick with your tongue and maybe he’ll reward you for your help by letting you sit on his face.

#john soap mactavish #call of duty #cod x reader #cod mw3 #cod modern warfare #soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you #soap x y/n #naive!reader #fanfic #soap cod #john mactavish #soap fanfic #smut #neighbor!soap

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ghostlyangels1204 · 2 months

Text

Soap the flower girl

Cont: I got his idea after seeing a TikTok of something similar to this, at that moment this was all I could think of omg. Soap is the perfect man istg, teeth-rotting sweetness. Brace yourselves.

You wrung your hands together, the sweat pilling there becoming exceedingly more uncomfortable as time passes. You had the whole day, hour to hour, minute to minute, mapped out in your mind. Every detail filed down to a fine pointed edge- not even a speck of dust could evade your wrath. Not today. Johnny had his fair share of missions for work, but this one was his biggest. The day he would legally bind the two of you, your promises exchanged with rings and sealed with a kiss.

Everything was perfect, your support network were all there- fawning over you, surrounding you with all the love you could possibly imagine, and then some. Johnny was in his own room, the three men he dedicated his life to for years, right there with him. But then, just as Johnny was hyping himself up, with Price and Gaz by his side, Ghost had walked into the room with less-than-ideal news. Johnny’s niece, the sweetest little girl you had ever met, had come down with a bad sickness bug from nursery and was currently stationed at home in bed. Needless to say- you didn’t have a flower girl.

“Ach’ shite…”, He huffed out, his hand finding its way to his face in a feeble attempt to soothe the contracted muscles. “Ay’e, what the hell am’ I gonnae do now? We get married in ten minutes!”

“Alright buddy, it’s just some flowers on the aisle. Bet no-one will even notice…” Ghost’s poor attempt at relaxing the sergeant resulted in two pairs of eyes from Price and Gaz being launched his way. He really wasn’t made for being a wedding planner.

Price turned back to him, a hand coming down to clasp his shoulder, “Right mate, let’s just get you downstairs yeah, and we’ll see if anyone fancies stepping in?” With a final pat on his back, they all moved downstairs as a unit, Johnny walking about ten paces faster than the rest.

In the time it took for everyone to be seated, people had asked around if anyone could step in. But to no avail, as all the other kids were either too shy or too stubborn to step in.

“Nah we need a flower girl… fuck,” The three men looked on in concern, convinced Johnny was about to drop dead from a heart attack right then and there. And they couldn’t leave you as a widow before you even married the man. “Johnny… its flowers… some petals that are more littering than decoration”, “Aye’ shut your trap LT, it matters okay! It might not matter to me or you, but it matters to them…”

Just as he was about to give up and face the loss, Johnny’s eyes widened. A flicker of light beaming in those baby blues that both relieved, and scared the other men around him. “AYE I’M A GENIUS!” He all but yelled out in joy, hands coming up to shake Ghost’s shoulders. “I’m not wearing a tutu Soap…”, “Shut up LT,” On any other day, Ghost would’ve reamed him for speaking to him like that- but he decided to give the man a day off. Just this once.

“Right, here’s the plan. Music- ON. Gaz, walk. Price, walk, Ghost, walk. All the bridesmaids, walk. Ring bearer, as long as he isn’t sniffling into a tissue too, WALK. And then me…” His smile was so wide his face could’ve split into two parts. They all looked baffled at each other, “Soap mate, that’s great but… that doesn’t solve your flower girl issue?”, “Wait and see Gazalicious… just you wait!” They watched as he ran off back into the building behind him, temporarily getting lost as he darted in one direction then came back sprinting in the other.

Gaz, Ghost and Price readied themselves behind the doors, waiting for the music to begin and to walk down the aisle themselves. “He doesn’t have any C4 on him does he?” Price whispered to Ghost, extremely concerned for his undisclosed, ‘genius’, solution. “Screened him, from his bags all the way down to his boxers… got nothin’ mate.”

The speakers scratched and the music began to play. Your bridesmaids surrounded you, ensuring everything about you looked as polished and perfect as you planned. Air filled your lungs as you took a deep breath, you were in no way nervous or doubtful in your decision. You just prayed you wouldn’t fall down that goddamn aisle.

You watched through tearful eyes as you saw the members of 141 each take their turn. Walking towards their positions towards the front of the ceremony. His best men.

All your bridesmaids followed, your maid of honor planting a kiss on your cheek for good luck, pinkies crossing together. “I hope you enjoy the surprise babe,” she giggles, and before you can ask, what the hell is that supposed to mean, she takes her turn. Surprise? What the hell?

All of a sudden, the music changes to something you hadn’t planned. Oh my god, it’s all going wrong. You cast a glance towards the start of the aisle, through a different door than you were at, where Johnny should be walking down. And then you spot him. Immaculately dressed in his tux, which he refused to let you get a sneak peek at if you didn’t let him see your dress. “It’s only fair, bonnie”. Not a strand of hair out of place- definitely Ghost’s work.

But, he’d added some accessories…

A pair of huge sunglasses frame his face with a basket of white and pink petals slung on his arm. He stands there, shoulders wide, serious look plastered on his face. He turns his head from one side, to the other, and starts to walk.

Ever so delicately, for a man of his size, he grasps pinches of petals before dashing them down the aisle. Sprinkling the flora down to his feet with the grace of a ballerina. Gleeful laughs erupt from your family and friends at this ‘surprise’. He’s even got the officiant laughing. With another handful of petals, he twirls around in place, before launching the flowers to his left side, and then some to his right. Petal after petal is scattered as he makes his way down towards the arch. The final handful is blown gently from his hand, into poor Ghost’s face. The lieutenant can’t help but laugh along with him, all his moodiness still intact. Johnny places the basket down, before turning around, and the four of them gather in a group hug, cackling away to themselves as cheering surrounds them.

Silently, without asking or worrying you, Johnny had fixed a problem you didn’t even realise you had. You’re about to marry the best man you’ve ever met, and you couldn’t be happier.

Word Count: 1129

#soap #soap mw2 #cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #soap cod #soap x reader #john mactavish #johnny mactavish #soap fluff #soap fanfic #soap wedding #fluff

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saltofmercury · 1 year

Text

Touch

Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader

Summary: Soap is a little touch starved

A/N: Should this have been for Ghost? Yes. Do I care? no because I believe in Soap being touch starved too. Also use of nickname "hen" I don't think I used any words that would allude to a f!reader, but lmk :)

"Touch"

Perhaps it was a dream that jolted you from your unconscious state. Tucked underneath three comforters, engulfed by 6 pillows, you laid inside the huge bed fast asleep. The nights turned cold, prompting you to pull the extra blankets at the edge of your bed.

A sudden close of the front door disrupted your concentration.

Heavy footsteps in the distance pounding closer to where you were. Sleep still weighed heavily on your eyes. Not wanting to move in case of touching a cold part of the bed, you stayed still, focused on drifting off back into unconsciousness. “If they rob me, they rob me,” you chanted in your head. Though you knew who had a spare key.

Thump thump thump — the steps got closer. A bag dropped in the distance, calculated footsteps reached the bedroom door.

“Hen?” The deep voice startled you. “Are ya awake hen?” Cold fingertips touched your face, eliciting a whine from you.

“You’re cold!”

“Dinnae fall back asleep, yeah?” His fingertips lingered on your face, softly tracing your lips with his thumb, his ring and pinky tracing your earlobe. A small hum from his mouth.

He knew not to wake you up in the middle of the night, but there was an urgency tonight. Almost 4 months have passed.

Footsteps fade away, fabric shifted in the air and dropped on the ground. Then, the shower runs.

Some water splashes down, but this isn’t like quiet rainfall that can lull you to sleep, it’s crashing and splashing on the marble floor. Then a quick squeal indicating the faucet is off. The shower curtain opens, and the footsteps come closer again, sliding from the bathroom to the room.

If Johnny is anything, he’s fucking loud.

You sit up on the bed, disgruntled. Your phone says 4:18AM

“Did you have to shower?”

“Aye, good you’re still awake” he ignores you, attempting to put his pants on. You can tell he’s still wet just by the way he’s attempting to pull the fabric up on his legs. He’s flustered, fighting the fabric that sticks to him, he should’ve just dried himself off properly.

He’s stepping over to the edge of the bed, crawling towards you, taking the cold side and shuffling in

“S’ cold aye? Ahm pure done in” but he’s not tired. He’s been anticipating his return. He’s been deprived of something. He still doesn't know how to describe it.

You turn to face him, right as he makes himself comfortable, it all falls into place. Placing one arm underneath your head, followed by engulfing your legs with his, he settles his face into your neck, mouth latching onto you. He starts off slow, just grazing his lips on your collarbone, exhaling in relief. “Wasn't sure how much longer I could take this.”

This first started when he enlisted. It went from constant everyday physical touch from his sisters and friends, to suddenly being swamped in a constant battle. He had longed for his opportunity to serve his country. He made it his first mission to be the best. Moving forward in his squad, earning him the nickname “Soap.”

But then when he got back home, everyone else moved forward too. His sisters were married and gone, his parents had taken the vacations they wanted, and his friends had started their own families.

He didn’t realize it then, but a dull pain had surrounded his body.

On the way back to base as Gaz hugged him, he knew then how much he missed the touch of someone else.

He remembers going to the bar to get some cheap touches. Flirting with the waitress, holding onto her hand a little longer as she handed him the drink, just to feel relief. A small tingle that radiated goosebumps on his arm.

Sometimes the waitress wasn’t there, and he couldn’t get away with it with another server.

He moved onto “gentlemen” clubs.

Fascinated by how they twirled, gracefully shook, and pulled their body weight around. The skimpy shiny outfits trotting around. The glitter around them. How their bodies were slenderly built. Their nails are perfectly manicured. Everything about them was perfect.

However, most of the girls here would be on a time limit.

“$20 for a dance” “$25 to touch me” which Soap didn’t mind, he just craved the time a little longer.

Even went to some red light districts when it got bad.

The woman staring at him in her bright pink lingerie. “You want to just hug?” Clarifying his intention for the night.

“Not a hug, I want a cuddle.” He spoke.

The woman stared at him, it wasn’t the first time she had this request. She just wanted clarification that this was what he had wanted. This happened a few more times, where Soap had begun to satiate his starvation... Until she asked one too many questions.

“Don’t you got a bird?”

“No”

“You’re not ugly pet, you could find someone.”

“Don’t have the time.”

“What do you do for a living?”

“Military”

“Explains the gunpowder scent”

That was the last time he went there. He didn’t need to be picked at or prodded.

He figured a hobby while time off between missions could help.

Any sort of hobby; weight training, ax throwing, and puzzles, to get him out of his head and the hold it had on him. No matter how much he did, no matter how much he accomplished, the feeling lingered there.

He talked to Gaz a few times, but Gaz wasn’t comprehending at all.

“It’s a dull feeling, just weighing on yer body.” Soap said, staring at the ground between them, pretending to watch the ants trail by.

“Can’t say I have mate… sounds odd.” Which made him feel even worse.

“Why don’t ya find friends with benefits?”

Soap had tried, and miserably failed. Women getting too caught up in him, checking his phone, demanding they speak to him when he was away. He was too detached, just wanted to come home and feel safe in someone’s arms.

Then by chance, you came.

At a bookstore while he was looking for any sort of book on this topic, you accidentally bumped into him.

“Shit sorry!” You, bending over to pick up the book he dropped.

You put your left hand on him, smiling, then holding his book out in the other.

“Here” you said.

He swears he could feel your entire heartbeat through your left hand, or was it his heartbeat? The small touch you gave him was euphoric.

“I’m Johnny.” He said, reaching his hand out to shake yours. You smiled, shook his hand and introduced yourself. Your hand felt warm, and soft. Kind of like when he goes into a pub after a mission and the heat from the room warms him up. It felt known, it was what he was after.

From then on, he continued to chase that feeling…Kept seeking your touches on every date.

How you wrapped yourself in his arm and squeezed yourself in.

“It’s getting so cold!” You mumbled walking through the park. You, innocently flirting, but he was so soothed by this. He gently closed his eyes and took it in. You wrapped your hand around his and shoved them in his pocket.

“Mens jackets always have more room don’t they?”

“Aye…” he said, his eyes still closed. Still entranced by your touch.

When you guys ate ice cream and you wiped a bit of the chocolate off his mouth. Your thumb gently swiped at the corner, bringing it to yours. Soap blushing at the small gesture.

“Yer something else hen,”

The time he stood there in your kitchen, listening to you babble about your show. He was drinking chocolate milk. You slowly crept up and placed your hands around his waist. Peering up at him with wide eyes, glad someone could stand you talking about fictional ideas. You scratched gently at his sides. He bit back on his tongue to hold in the moan. You already felt the goosebumps that accompanied your finger tips.

“Did you also know that they’re straying away from the book?”

“Hmmmm” biting his bottom lip, while wrapping one arm around you.

Or when you got a migraine suddenly during a night in with him and needed it to be quiet. You laid on the couch, instructing him to turn off the lights and not make any sounds.

“Yer sure you don’t need any medicine?” He questioned, looking at how pale and lifeless you became.

“Just come here please.. quietly.”

You made space for him on the couch, then brought an eye cover over your eyes.

“Please don’t laugh” you nuzzled yourself into his chest, “can you put your arm over my head?“

“Over yer head?” He was so confused but entertained the idea seeing that he’s never met a headache that could take out someone. The weight of his biceps was comforting the pound in your head.

Soap waited a few minutes before you knocked out, then brought you closer.

He inhaled your scent, watched as your eyebrows had furrowed, the tension harboring in your head, then released. Your lips on his chest, hand underneath his shirt holding the small of his back, and legs tucked under you. It felt amazing.

The two of you fell asleep there.

Now he’s here, coming home to you, knowing that he’s going to be touched, maybe even loved.

Your hands rub the back of his head. His mohawk has started to grow out like a pineapple, longer strands almost touching his ear. You trace the back of his neck down to his spine, then up again.

You kiss the spot below his ear, and he hitched his breath.

“I’m sorry” you say, scared that maybe you woke him up. “Do you want me to stop?”

“No, hen keep goin’.”

You smile to yourself as you kiss his eyebrows, his cheek, rubbing a little harder into his shoulder and back.

He moans, you tease a little. “You’re so spoiled aren't you? Delicately tracing his spine with each of your fingers.

“You like being spoiled, baby?”

He smiles, nuzzling into your chest. Goosebumps have formed on his back, arms, and neck. “Aye, feels good.” he laughs a little embarrassed. How quickly he caves into your praise.

You rub him to sleep, watching the sun rise through your windows, how his face calms down, eyebrows are settled, lips puckered out. He settles into your skin. Maybe it wasn’t a dream.

#john soap mactavish #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #soap x reader #soap x you #soap fanfic #soap mw2

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thisfanisgonesorry · 4 months

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Can you do a giggly drunk make out session with soap x fem reader and Ghost (being the observant guy he is) could tell his best friend was head I’ve rebels for the female sergeant and he catches the 2 out of the corner of his eyes making out, smiling into each others mouths?!?!

i hope this is okay!! im sorry it took me a little bit, got super AUGHH with it and lowkey not my proudest but <3

tags: fluff, love confessions sort of, making out mwahmwahmwah, depictions of drinking + smoking, simon is not an asshole for once, light use of scottish gaelic / scottish slang

☠️

Lieutenant Riley was across the room, his arms furrowed across his chest as he kept a close eye on things. His eyes squinted and focused on the duo and he sighed, shaking his head; “Idiots.”

Johnny ‘Soap’ Mactavish, standing in all his glory, was hunched over the pool-table, a beer bottle creating ring stains in the plush green carpet. He pulled his arm back and click, the last little ball sunk into the netted hole.

“Fucker.” The other man cursed, and John accepted his humble victory, which meant chugging the rest of his beer and sending the loser to get him another while he set the table up for the next game.

During his victory, he glanced over, a grin plastering his face as he noticed my staring. “You see that?” He cheered, walking over and slumping next to me on the couch. His lackey handed him his fresh beer, and he clinked our drinks.

“Mostly saw the back of you.”

“Sure you enjoyed the view anyway, yeah?” He joked, taking my beer from my hands and giving me his fresh cold one in its place. He blinked, realising he needed to explain, but also wanting to change the topic away from his assets. “It’s gone warm.” He hummed, sipping the warm beer casually.

“I could’ve just got a new one.”

“Ain’t no point wasting beer, hen, don’t worry about it.”

“Hen?” I asked back with a short laugh, and he simply ignored it, instead his attention being dragged to the other Sergeants that were pulling him out of the couch and towards another table.

He returned back a lot more drinks later, being the ‘victor’ of beer pong. He lost, but he says that was intentional so he could drink more.

“It’s a self-proclaimed victory.” He claimed with a slurred laugh, rotating his wrist in circles, motioning blanky, moving his hands for the sake of moving them. “They think they won, builds morale, makes ‘em not sooky that I win everythin’, and I get to get drunk.” He winked.

“That’s what you call it?”

“Yeah, it’s like, uh, when you let your little bruther win a game, y’know? You let him win because it makes him ‘appy, not ‘cause he’s actually better than you, but you’re a good bruther for letting him win, right?”

“You’re an asshole.” I laughed while sipping my drink.

A lot more drinks later, and he was staring from across the room, fiddling with the lighter in his hands. He noticed Simon staring at him, and he simply scoffed, shoving his metal lighter into his pocket and sauntering over.

“Hey, y’got a light?” He lied through his teeth despite his inebriated state. “‘M gonna go for a smoke.”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh- I’ll come with you.” I smiled, grabbing my drink and following behind him quickly as he made his exit to the fresh air outside. Hovering by the doorway, I handed him my lighter, and he placed the cigarette between his lips.

“Thanks.” He spoke quietly, trying to hide the slight slur to his voice, his eyes glued to the struggling lighter. His thumb brushed the gears, yet it would spark and sputter without a flame.

I took the lighter from his hands, shaking it and flicking it briefly to life. “You gotta shake it.” I held the flame up, lighting his cigarette for him and he kept eye contact with his deep inhale. The cigarette barely lit before the flame died out, he got one good inhale, blowing the smoke to the side before the cigarette was burnt out.

“I think it’s about time y’get a new one.” He commented, a short grimace of dissatisfaction crossing his face before replacing it with a grateful smile, not wanting to look sour.

“Mhmhm, and what happened to your lighter?” I deflected the issue.

“Ah, Si’s got it.” He responded quickly. I leant against the wall and took a sip of my drink, and he slumped against it with me, a loud ‘thump’ as his body weight collided with the concrete. “You really should know better than to light me up.” He joked, putting the cigarette away in the pack for later.

“You’re the idiot who couldn’t do it himself.” I laughed, finding his slight frustration somewhat amusing.

“You’re the one with a dead lighter, why do I have to shake it?”

“Don’t bum yours out to people who don’t give it back.”

“He will.” He spoke, his composure faltered and he started laughing at the lighthearted argument. He looked at me and just giggled to himself. “Fuck, y’so..”

“So?” I tilted my head, stifling a few more drunken laughs.

“Pretty.” He admitted with a soft exhale between laughs. “God, you’re so pretty.” He said, leaning in closer towards me, his breath smelling of smoke and beer as it filled the short space between us, the cold air being replaced quickly.

“Yeah? You think?” I felt the heat of my cheeks rise, definitely not helped by the drunken haze. He hummed with a nod. “Well.. I think.. there’s nothing wrong with my lighter.”

“Oh my god.” He laughed, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, nothin’ wrong wit’ it for the 3 seconds I had to use it. Just get a new one.”

“If I need a light, I’ll use yours. How about that?”

“What if ’m not around?”

“You’re always around.”

“Y/n. You’re ruining the moment.”

“We’re having a moment?” I joked and he grabbed my face, pressing his lips into mine without any further hesitation.

He held his lips there. “That’s f’the light, smokin’ rules and all’a that.” He mumbled, pulling away for a second to glance over my face, before kissing me again.

“And that’s for?”

“Shut up, was meant t’kiss you when I called you pretty but y’ruined it.”

“So that’s for being pretty?”

“I said shut up.” He laughed against my lips, his arms wrapping around my shoulders and pulling me into him. I laughed with him, my legs feeling like jelly from the mixture of alcohol and butterflies. “Been trying to kiss you all night but just couldn’t figure out how to.” He admitted with a light laugh as his lips chased mine before he kissed me again.

He held my body up and close to him, turning our position so his large figure covered me from view, low chuckles leaving his throat and filling the tight space between us. “Didn’t even think you’d snog me back.” He teased, his hands practically glued to my face and waist, holding me as close to him as possible.

“Why wouldn’t I?” I panted, the tone was light but it was still a heavy question.

“I mean, knew y’liked me but didn’t think it was this much.” He joked. “Thought you’d be distracted by my shite patter.”

“It was pretty shit.”

“Cheers.” He huffed in amusement, he leant in closer once again, making it clear he wanted to cut the banter, he kissed the corner of my mouth lightly. “Gonna kiss or gonna talk all through it?” He joked lightly before continuing his actions.

“Can’t do both?” I smiled, and it was met with a dramatic sigh.

“We can talk for the rest o’the night, hen, ain’t got all night for this.” He responded. “Someone’ll wonder where we’ve gone, but they’re probably glad I’m not kickin’ their arses.” He couldn’t stop laughing at his own words, evidently prideful over his accomplishment of being best at insert-any-party-game-here in the entire barracks. “Your lips are softer than I could’ve imagined, jus’, c’mon, hen, kiss me.” He pleaded.

“Johnny, you’re giggling too much.” It was admittedly infectious, the warm feeling spreading to my chest. “Someone could hear us.”

“Who cares? ’M sure no one’s listening, and it's not like we’re bein’ secretive.”

“We’re just ... Two friends havin’ a smoke.”

“Mhm, just friends.” His voice dipped, almost a whisper, his tone changed quickly. His demeanour stayed calm, and indifferent, though his words were almost sour. “Don’t know where anyone would get any other idea about us from.”

“Oh, c’mon, Johnny.” I dismissed, leaning closer to him. “You know I didn’t mean it like that.” His body still covered mine like a shield, his strong arms holding me in place as his eyes flicked.

“So what did you mean?”

I shook my head, my lips ghosting over his. “Don’t overthink it.” I whispered, and his hand gently cupped my face.

“Hard not to.” He moved closer, closing the short distance, his tongue swiping across my bottom lip. My hands wrapped around his neck, tugging slightly on the mohawk and earning a short whimper.

He pulled away for a moment, licking his lips. “I could go for ‘nother drink.” I joked, and he gave a light scoff.

His ears perked up at the clicking sound of the door opening, though he simply kept looking into my eyes, biting back any comments he could have. His reaction seemed to just be to hunch himself over me fully.

“Subtle.” The Ghost commented dryly; “Real subtle.” He’d evidently only checked on us to prove something to himself, and his sarcastic attitude matched that he found exactly what he expected. The pinnacle of crude.

“What do you want, Lt?” He grinned, not pulling away from me. He tried to keep the movements going into sync, though the fogginess of the liquor and the laughter between us made it hard for him to keep his focus.

He hissed inwardly. “What’s-his-face wants a rematch.” He said matter-of-factly before continuing; “They want you inside but I can see you’re busy. I’ll, uh, let you continue this.” He thought his comment was funny, before turning quickly on his heel.

Johnny’s soft chuckles filled the air and he pulled away for a moment. “I lied about the lighter, by the way.”

“Course you did.”

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